Long Way Home (2/3)
Dec. 20th, 2008 01:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
nofaves.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
2minsforslashingTitle: Long Way Home
Pairing: Ty Conklin/Marc-André Fleury
Rating: hard R, eventually
Disclaimer: No Penguins, past or present, belong to me. Any events portrayed herein occurred only in my imagination.
Summary: Ty explores the paths that brought he and Marc together.
Word Count: 892
Author’s Notes: This is just a short, sweet interlude before the real action begins. Thanks as always to my beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eggybread, and to all who read and enjoy!
Smiling face and laughing eyes were replaced by slack jaws and a stare of disbelief.
“You’re going where?” They were barely whispered, but Ty felt the words as if they had been shouted at him.
“Marc, you always knew this could happen…”
“Non. I always knew you could go. But I had no idea you were talking to… them.”
“It’s just another team. Would it help if I were going to the Devils? Some team you’d have to see – and beat – several times a year?” Ty wasn’t sure his logic was sinking in, as Marc’s face was expressionless. “Detroit’s in the West; we’ll only meet once during the season, maybe twice.”
“During the season.”
Ty caught Marc’s drift. Meeting a team during the regular season didn’t carry the same emotional baggage as meeting them during the post-season. Guys could come into a town and hang with former teammates before a regular season game, or meet up afterward at the hotel for a beer. Ty had actually seen Big Georges beat a guy to a pulp during a game back in Edmonton and then drink with him four hours later.
But the playoffs were a different story. The closest of brothers wouldn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence if their teams faced each other then.
“There’s no guarantees that will ever happen, kid.”
“You don’t think the Wings can repeat?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“So you don’t think that I can get us there?”
“No!”
“Then why the ‘no guarantees’ shit, Ty?”
In frustration, Ty reached out to cup Marc’s face with both hands. “Do you think I haven’t given this thought?” When merely a blank stare was returned, he continued. “I had no choice.”
“Any other Western team would have been better—“
“I didn’t get any other offers! There, is that what you wanted to hear?” Ty was disgusted at himself for lashing out at Marc, but his emotion ruled his wayward tongue. “Second in the league last year in save percentage doesn’t mean that much, apparently.”
Marc looked stunned but recovered enough to ask, “No other team in the West wanted you?”
“No other TEAM wanted me!” He no longer cared at that point; he went for the jugular. “Including yours.”
Ty didn’t resist as Marc pulled back from him. He watched the kid turn and walk a few steps away, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s not true… Couldn’t be…”
“You calling me a liar now?”
Marc rounded on him with fire in his dark eyes. “Fuck you!”
“Wow. Your English is really coming along.” Again Ty allowed his sarcastic mouth free rein to dig at Marc, to get under the kid’s skin. But what other weapon did he have left? Marc was going to sign a long-term contract extension and Ty was going to sign another year-long apartment lease.
Ty was jealous. He was jealous and hurt and felt unwanted. And the sudden bewildered expression on Marc’s face merely pissed off Ty even more. Why wouldn’t he fight back?
“Say something.”
Marc stared back at Ty for half a beat and then turned away, shoulders slouched.
“Damn it, Marc—“
“What do you want me to say?” he snarled. “Give you more ammunition? Let you hurt me some more?”
Before he knew what he was saying, the poison shot out once again. “Yeah, poor you. Must be tough having to make it on all those millions they’re gonna throw your way.”
He assumed Marc would do something. Like throw a haymaker at his jaw, or lower his head and ram him to the floor, or even growl a stream of Québécois epithets questioning whether or not Ty’s parents had ever been married.
Marc did something, all right.
He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Ty, clasping him so tightly that he almost couldn’t breathe.
“You can’t say anything wrong to me, remember? No matter how hard you try…” were the words Ty felt as much as heard whispered into his ear. “You’re not going to push me away that easily. I’m sorry.”
At the last two words, Ty looked up. “What – you’re sorry?”
“You called me over because you needed someone, and I made it all about me. Enough that you had to tell me that bullshit about no other team wanting you—”
“Hey! I wasn’t lying—”
It was Marc’s turn to cup Ty’s face as he said, “It’s still bullshit, true or not. Some GMs see the trees but not the forest.”
Ty tried to look away, to shy away from the comfort Marc was trying to give him. Despite what Marc thought, he didn’t want to feel better. He wanted to burn in anger and carry that emotion into the upcoming season, showing the rest of the league that they were all wrong about him.
But the long fingers imprisoning his face wouldn’t allow him to do anything except drop his gaze. Marc waited a moment before continuing, “I’m happy for you. Seems silly, huh?”
When Ty finally looked up, he saw nothing but honesty in Marc’s smile-crinkled brown eyes, and his anger fell away. But he couldn’t resist one last playful jab. “Happy that your competition is leaving?”
Marc’s eyes widened for a brief moment until he saw Ty’s grin. “Happy that you’ll be someone else’s competition. Someone you can actually beat.”
Pairing: Ty Conklin/Marc-André Fleury
Rating: hard R, eventually
Disclaimer: No Penguins, past or present, belong to me. Any events portrayed herein occurred only in my imagination.
Summary: Ty explores the paths that brought he and Marc together.
Word Count: 892
Author’s Notes: This is just a short, sweet interlude before the real action begins. Thanks as always to my beta
eggybread, and to all who read and enjoy!Smiling face and laughing eyes were replaced by slack jaws and a stare of disbelief.
“You’re going where?” They were barely whispered, but Ty felt the words as if they had been shouted at him.
“Marc, you always knew this could happen…”
“Non. I always knew you could go. But I had no idea you were talking to… them.”
“It’s just another team. Would it help if I were going to the Devils? Some team you’d have to see – and beat – several times a year?” Ty wasn’t sure his logic was sinking in, as Marc’s face was expressionless. “Detroit’s in the West; we’ll only meet once during the season, maybe twice.”
“During the season.”
Ty caught Marc’s drift. Meeting a team during the regular season didn’t carry the same emotional baggage as meeting them during the post-season. Guys could come into a town and hang with former teammates before a regular season game, or meet up afterward at the hotel for a beer. Ty had actually seen Big Georges beat a guy to a pulp during a game back in Edmonton and then drink with him four hours later.
But the playoffs were a different story. The closest of brothers wouldn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence if their teams faced each other then.
“There’s no guarantees that will ever happen, kid.”
“You don’t think the Wings can repeat?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“So you don’t think that I can get us there?”
“No!”
“Then why the ‘no guarantees’ shit, Ty?”
In frustration, Ty reached out to cup Marc’s face with both hands. “Do you think I haven’t given this thought?” When merely a blank stare was returned, he continued. “I had no choice.”
“Any other Western team would have been better—“
“I didn’t get any other offers! There, is that what you wanted to hear?” Ty was disgusted at himself for lashing out at Marc, but his emotion ruled his wayward tongue. “Second in the league last year in save percentage doesn’t mean that much, apparently.”
Marc looked stunned but recovered enough to ask, “No other team in the West wanted you?”
“No other TEAM wanted me!” He no longer cared at that point; he went for the jugular. “Including yours.”
Ty didn’t resist as Marc pulled back from him. He watched the kid turn and walk a few steps away, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s not true… Couldn’t be…”
“You calling me a liar now?”
Marc rounded on him with fire in his dark eyes. “Fuck you!”
“Wow. Your English is really coming along.” Again Ty allowed his sarcastic mouth free rein to dig at Marc, to get under the kid’s skin. But what other weapon did he have left? Marc was going to sign a long-term contract extension and Ty was going to sign another year-long apartment lease.
Ty was jealous. He was jealous and hurt and felt unwanted. And the sudden bewildered expression on Marc’s face merely pissed off Ty even more. Why wouldn’t he fight back?
“Say something.”
Marc stared back at Ty for half a beat and then turned away, shoulders slouched.
“Damn it, Marc—“
“What do you want me to say?” he snarled. “Give you more ammunition? Let you hurt me some more?”
Before he knew what he was saying, the poison shot out once again. “Yeah, poor you. Must be tough having to make it on all those millions they’re gonna throw your way.”
He assumed Marc would do something. Like throw a haymaker at his jaw, or lower his head and ram him to the floor, or even growl a stream of Québécois epithets questioning whether or not Ty’s parents had ever been married.
Marc did something, all right.
He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Ty, clasping him so tightly that he almost couldn’t breathe.
“You can’t say anything wrong to me, remember? No matter how hard you try…” were the words Ty felt as much as heard whispered into his ear. “You’re not going to push me away that easily. I’m sorry.”
At the last two words, Ty looked up. “What – you’re sorry?”
“You called me over because you needed someone, and I made it all about me. Enough that you had to tell me that bullshit about no other team wanting you—”
“Hey! I wasn’t lying—”
It was Marc’s turn to cup Ty’s face as he said, “It’s still bullshit, true or not. Some GMs see the trees but not the forest.”
Ty tried to look away, to shy away from the comfort Marc was trying to give him. Despite what Marc thought, he didn’t want to feel better. He wanted to burn in anger and carry that emotion into the upcoming season, showing the rest of the league that they were all wrong about him.
But the long fingers imprisoning his face wouldn’t allow him to do anything except drop his gaze. Marc waited a moment before continuing, “I’m happy for you. Seems silly, huh?”
When Ty finally looked up, he saw nothing but honesty in Marc’s smile-crinkled brown eyes, and his anger fell away. But he couldn’t resist one last playful jab. “Happy that your competition is leaving?”
Marc’s eyes widened for a brief moment until he saw Ty’s grin. “Happy that you’ll be someone else’s competition. Someone you can actually beat.”
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