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[x-jerseygirl.livejournal.com]

TITLE: Us Against the World
AUTHOR: Jennie
CHARACTERS: Steve Bernier and Milan Michalek of the San Jose Sharks, with appearances by Joe Thornton and Patrick (Patty) Marleau, both of the San Jose Sharks.
SUMMARY: Sometimes, the fight to stay together is too much to bear.
RATING: PG- some porn in the beginning and typically Jennie angst. :)
DISCLAIMER: Steve and Milan are real, but nothing else is.
A/N: If the Czech or French is wrong, I’m terribly sorry…and let me know what the right way to say it is! Anything italicized is meant to be in French. Any Czech in the fic is not meant to be understood by the majority of readers. Let me know what you think about the fic! Happy reading!



Milan let his tongue glide over Steve’s lip and watched as Steve’s eyelids began to flicker with pleasure. Not wanting to waste another moment, he slid his hand down the length of Steve’s chest and buried it in Steve’s briefs. He dragged a cold finger down Steve's shaft until he heard footsteps coming down the hall.

Milan pulled his hand out of Steve's pants with such force, Steve was sure he'd have scratch marks for days. With not a moment to spare, Joe walked in to the room. Milan was pretending to be wrapping sticks for the game tomorrow and Steve tying his shoes when he entered. They sat on opposite sides of the room, pretending to concentrate intently on their various chores.

But in both of their minds, they were sitting on the bed in Milan's apartment, caressing each other with all the care in the world. What Joe saw was two over-eager rookies who didn't know any better. But what he couldn't see was how they loved each other. Muttering a quick hello to both of them, he grabbed his gear and left the room as quickly as he came. When Joe was believed to be out of hearing distant, Milan let out a sigh of relief.

"That was too close," he breathed, and let his head fall back on to the cool cement wall.

"Yeah, and your shaft isn't sticking up like a pine tree."

All at once, they were together again, entwined in each other's passion. Milan let the tape fall from his hand and Steve stuffed the shoelaces under the tongue of his shoe.

"I hate this," Steve whispered. "It's just…"

"I know how it is, baby." Milan walked over to where Steve stood, his head hanging down, and gently touched his chin.

"We only have a few more weeks of this, okay? And then we can be together as much as we want." Milan's voice was soft, but reassuring. He'd never been through this, being in love, but he was sure that they'd be together in the end. Isn’t that how it was in the movies? His voice was apparently enough to assure Steve, who looked up and kissed Milan lightly on the lips.

"If you can wait, I can wait," Steve said softly.

And so, they waited. Through secret meetings in the stairs at some hotel, chance meetings at a downtown bar, making love in the park at night, and eating dinner at obscure hotels in San Francisco, Steve and Milan managed to keep their relationship alive, but also, managed to keep it a secret. Occasionally, the wait got too strong for either of them, and they kissed lightly in the team shower. Sometimes, they stayed late after games and let the other tend to his bruises from the game. But they continued to wait for the moment when they could walk proudly hand in hand, knowing that it was them against the world.

Game two of the 2nd round in the Playoffs tested the wait. Shortly into the game against Edmonton, Milan had been checked hard into the boards and became injured. Though he finished the game, he had to hold on to the bench to keep himself from passing out because of the pain in his head. Steve undressed slowly that night, slow enough to allow for the rest of the team to empty out of the locker room, allowing Milan and himself to be alone in the locker room. Once the final person shut the door, Steve walked over to Milan and enclosed Milan's hand in his.

"You need help getting to the shower?" Milan looked up at the sound of Steve's voice and replied a mumble in Czech.

"Okay, let's get you up." Steve tucked his hands under each of Milan's armpits and gently raised him off of the bench. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Steve half-carried Milan to the shower and sat him down on the bench in front of the shower head. Picking it up from the sink, he ran a sponge down Milan's shoulders, arms, back, chest.

About halfway down washing Milan's leg, he looked at Steve and said, softly, "být zavázán tebe." Steve laid the sponge beside Milan's feet and rested a hand on his scarred knee. Milan's eyes were struggling to stay open, and his eye was beginning to swell shut.

It was at that moment that Steve gave up the fight to keep their relationship a secret. The moment he felt Milan's pain as his own, the moment he realized Milan was struggling to stay conscious, that was the moment when Steve gave up the fight. He turned the water off, lifted Milan off of the bench as he would a baby, and walked to his car dripping yet.

"I’m so tired," Milan said, forcing each word to form on his lips.

"Don't go to sleep yet, baby," Steve replied, when they reached the car. He struggled to open the car door, but managed, and laid Milan down in the back seat. For the next 15 minutes, Steve drove with an iron foot, racing to get to the dingy apartment that had become Milan's home. It was a struggle to climb the flight of stairs to Milan's apartment with a fully-grown man in his arms, but he managed, and, once again, laid him down, this time on Milan's bed.

Steve watched as Milan's breathing became shallower and his diaphragm began to move more steadily. He took this as an opportunity to call Patty. Before he could speak, Patty told him he'd be over shortly and hung up the phone. True to his word, he showed up at Milan's door five minutes later.

"First of all, I need to tell you something." Steve sensed the nerves in his own voice, but was cut off by a wave of Patty's hand.

"You don't have to tell me, I already know." Steve opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off again. "Captain's intuition. I just know these things. That and the fact that you two can't keep your eyes off each other. But anyways, how bad is he?"

Steve slumped down on to the couch and his eyes close. "Bad. His eye is swollen and he was speaking in Czech. We don't speak English because ours is not so good, but usually, we speak French. Never Czech. I think he has a...” Steve struggled to find the right words. He wasn't used to speaking this much English in a sentence before, and the stress of the night had put a damper on his English-speaking skills.

“Concussion. We need to keep him awake, then." Steve followed Patty as he strode into the bedroom and began slapping Milan on the cheek.

"He sleeps like the dead,” Steve told Patty. “I have to sing to him to wake him up."

In all his years of playing in the league, Patty had never seen a pair as close-knit as these two. But, in all his years, he never had to wake a sleeping man from a possible concussion. He backed away from the bed and watched as Steve knelt beside the bed and rested his head on the portion of empty mattress beside Milan.

'Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux.' Steve was singing quietly into Milan’s ear, and Patty watched in amazement as Milan began to stir in his sleep, and then open his good eye. Patty took that as his clue to walk over to the bed.

"Milan? Kid, you need to stay awake, okay? You might have a concussion, and we can't have that."

Milan looked from Patty to Steve with a confused look on his face. "What is he doing here?"

“I called him."

"Why?"

"I was scared. He knows about us."

Patty broke in with another wave of his arm. "Okay, I can't speak much French, but, Milan, ça va?" Milan tried to sit up, but winced at the pain and eventually lay back down.

"Bad. I feel like shit."

Patty told Steve to get an ice pack from the freezer and took Steve's spot beside the bed.

"I know..uh..about..you and Steve. So..tell me..about..how you..really..feel."

Milan suppressed a grin, but only succeeded in throwing Patty a smirk. "It's okay, I can speak English."

“You couldn't an hour ago."

"I didn't know where I was an hour ago. But I don't think I'm going to pass out again. You can go home."

Patty smiled and looked from Milan to Steve, who had just entered the room, and back to Milan again. "You guys never had to hide, you know. Most of the guys would never have known, even if you made out in front of them. But now at least you know you'll be stronger for it."

Patty walked out of the apartment with a triumphant grin on his face, oblivious to the goings-on in the room he had just left. Steve padded over to the bed and climbed in beside Milan.

"You had me scared for a second, baby," Steve said as Milan began to comb his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“I had myself scared."

There was silence between them, before Steve said, "Do you think he's right? That this year, hiding and everything, is going to make us stronger?"

Milan wrapped an arm around Steve's waist and pulled Steve into him. Sure, he'd never known what love was, but he was sure this was it.

"Yeah," Milan said knowingly this time. "I think it will."

---

Real elements: Milan and Steve have been witnessed by sources as speaking French to one another. They have also stated in interviews that they hang out with each other quite frequently. In Game 2 of the 2nd round versus Edmonton, Milan was hit quite hard. He left for the locker room, but returned in the 3rd period. The Sharks organization did not mention any injuries he sustained. The day after the hit, Milan talked to the media while wearing sunglasses. Though this doesn’t mean that he had a black eye, I think it’s a good reason for him to be wearing sunglasses. :) To be totally honest, I don’t know whether Patty can speak French or not. I’m assuming that he grew up speaking English, though.