Pairings: Steve Yzerman/Brendan Shanahan, Kirk Maltby/Kris Draper
Rating: PG
A bit of background before we get into it...
There are ten ficlets below, all consisting of one hundred words each. So this whole story is exactly 1000 words.
This story takes place around game six of the first-round series in 2006 between the Edmonton Oilers and the Detroit Red Wings. Detroit Captain Steve Yzerman, whom some thought would not come back after the lockout, was hit in game three and hurt his back. He missed games 4 and 5, but came back in game 6. That may have been his final game ever in the NHL.
Steve Yzerman #19 and Brendan Shanahan #14
********************************************
“Don’t play.”
“I am going to play.”
“I saw you out there. You can’t lean over. You can’t hardly stand after you shoot. You can’t even get up on your own when you try to take face-offs. Stevie, the team needs you but not if its going to kill you.”
“I will play. And we will win. End of discussion. Get a move on. I can’t do this all on my own.”
“Babe...”
“You know I love you right?”
“Of course. And I love you...”
“Then come help me tie my shoes, babe.”
Shanahan can’t help but laugh. “Yes, captain.”
********************************************
“If they run you like that again I’ll take someone’s head off.”
“I’m fine. I feel even better than I did this morning.” Steve Yzerman grimaces as he makes a grab for a water bottle.
Shanahan puts the bottle gently in his captain’s hand.
“Thanks.”
Shanahan stares straight ahead, a pained look on his weathered face.
Maltby comes vaulting over the boards and almost topples Stevie backwards.
“Oh sorry, sorry...” Kirk stutters, noticing who he’s sitting on.
Shanahan bodily moves him away from Stevie, hissing, “Watch it Malts. I may love you and your boyfriend, but I love mine more.”
********************************************
“I’m gonna take this draw.”
“No.”
“Yes. I know my body better than you do, Brendan.”
“I might argue that after all these years. Let Lang do it.”
“Why am I out here if I’m not doing what needs to be done. Just trust me.”
“I trust you. I just don’t trust those painkillers, I think they’re giving you false confidence.”
“Yzerman, Shanahan, Lang.” The yell comes behind them, and they head to the circle.
Yzerman notices the intensity ratchet up several notches on the faces of his teammates as he skates slowly to join them. He smiles.
He’s home.
********************************************
He wins the face off.
The puck floats around the boards, but the playmaker is patiently waiting.
Stevie signals and immediately receives the puck. Shanahan is in his kitchen, eliminating two Oilers, distracting the goalie.
Stevie looks at the net, but sees something even better. An open Robert Lang. Pass, bang, goal.
The group hug comes to the captain, who tells his players that he knew they could.
Shanahan skates behind his lover to their ecstatic bench, waiting until they are sitting side by side.
“You did it.”
Stevie just looks at him, those beautiful eyes saying more than words.
********************************************
Malts tells his captain, “We got it back, and we’ll keep it too.”
Draper taps Malts on the butt as he heads out to join Shanahan on Yzerman‘s line.
Stevie watches, chin in hand, as the man wearing #14 in red and white runs through black jersey after black jersey. He looks angry, but then, that’s not unusual.
Malts nudges Steve. “Looks like he’s trying to hit anybody who might’ve dared to touch you.”
Stevie grimaces. “Probably.”
The two forwards watch as their lovers grit it out before their eyes, trying desperately to keep their lead, and their season, alive.
********************************************
“I let him down.”
Draper rests an arm around Shanahan’s shoulders, suppressing his own disappointment to comfort his older teammate.
“You played your heart out.”
Brendan is inconsolable. He pushes Drapes away and pleads, “Watch him? I can’t bear to meet his eyes.”
“Yeah...but...”
Shanahan just shakes his head. “He’s more hurt than he’s letting anyone know.”
He leaves to head the long line beginning to shake hands at center.
That symbolic visual stuns Draper into action, and he quickly pivots away, finding his captain at the Oiler bench. He guides Stevie gently into the line behind a concerned Maltby.
********************************************
Maltby watches his lover separate from Brendan. The sturdy forward looks utterly devastated, his body sagging with defeat. But Maltby is focused elsewhere, knowing Brendan will find comfort in Stevie later. Kirk wants to make sure his own lover, who always looks after everybody but himself, is doing okay.
Draper subtly gathers Stevie up, and Maltby sighs gracefully, knowing that their time will have to wait until they make sure the captain is taken care of and safely with big Shanahan. Brendan will be afraid of Stevie’s reaction, but Stevie will singularly desire the comforting oblivion of his lover’s arms.
********************************************
Steve pushes his quiet guardians away from him, telling them that he is not an invalid and to stop insulting his manhood. They weakly protest, but their eyes are relieved as they lean into each other.
Stevie cannot find his Bren anywhere until he strips down and heads to the showers. There he is, his tall, dark hero.
Everyone else is out of the showers, so Stevie grabs his lover forcefully from behind, squeezing his midsection almost too hard.
Shanahan shudders before relaxing against Stevie’s back.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Stevie turns Brendan around and searches for his beloved’s eyes.
********************************************
Brendan doesn’t want to meet the gaze of the man whom he has loved for twenty years.
“Don’t ever say that.” Stevie speaks fiercely, lovingly, with the voice that led his team to three Stanley Cup Championships.
“You are the best friend, teammate, and lover anybody could ever possibly ask for, and I bless whoever is out there looking out for us every day because life would not truly be worth living without you by my side.”
Brendan finally looks into the eyes of the man holding him, and his heart rises into his throat as tears blur his vision.
********************************************
The night crashes on Detroit, Michigan. In a small downtown apartment a famous captain is nestled in a pair of protective arms, and the heavy pain in his back and in his heart is made bearable for a short while.
Across town the two remaining members of “the Grind Line” toss a football back and forth across a dimly lit living room, killing leftover nerves. The television on, neither listening as reporters analyze the game that kicked them out of playoff contention.
An unspoken decision is reached.
Hours later, lightning flashes over the city, spotlighting four bodies finally finding release.
