Chapter 35: Abby—Are We Alone

"Aaaaaaaaabby! Ahhh-bee! Oh Patrick I can’t stand it! Don’t tell me that you’re comfortable with your nickname either! Paaaaaatty and Ahhhh-by! We sound like a couple of....sisters! Ooooooh did you see Patty and Abby today? Eeeeee! I saw them, they were buying new dresses at Noooooordstroms! Oooooooh!" Having said that, David Aebischer flopped down onto his back on the bench throwing an arm over his face in a mock swoon.

"Still nervous?" Patrick asked quietly.

David peeked through his long, slender fingers up at Patrick’s face. There was a slight frown on Patrick’s mouth, and a dull look in his eye. Disappointed that he could see no flash in those eyes, David sat up. "No not really," he said brightly. "I was just chirping."

Patrick wrinkled his nose. David grinned, now there was some flash, albeit an annoyed one. "You chirp when you’re nervous," Patrick pointed out.

Suddenly David felt a queasy twist in his stomach. Of course he was nervous, dammit he was always nervous before a game. Fear! He feared getting scored on, he feared that first puck, and it was a fear that bled from him with sweat and made his limbs tremble. It dried his mouth....and probably wasn’t good for his complexion either. The fear almost always disappeared when the first goal went by him or when he saw the first goal scored for him. Coach Hartley would be in sooner or later and he would pelt him with a puck with all the force of a pitcher, and that usually spooked the fear right out of him.

"Oh Patty, darling," David sighed. "How do you get over the nervous twinge?"

Patrick shrugged. "I don’t get nervous."

"Really," David said with raised eyebrows. "I think you’re lying."

There they were! David all but clapped for joy when he saw the full explosion of fire in Patrick’s eyes at his comment. Too delicious. It was like pulling the pigtails on the only blond girl in class, teasing Patrick before a game was a necessity! "Alright," David said, smiling and pulling off his shirt. "You’re not lying. But you would be if you said you felt nothing before a game, so cop up. What do you feel?"

Patrick yawned and leaned back against the wall. David blinked and looked at him, waiting for an answer. This man was magical. That’s what he had heard from countless friends and acquaintances before he made his first appearance from the team. This was St. Patrick. David had never believed it, he wasn’t a saint, and he wasn’t anything more than a man. He was a damn fine goalie to be sure. And there was something David found intensely enthralling about him too.

"I feel the need to move," Patrick finally said, his eyes were still closed and he rested his hands on top of his head. "I feel the need to win. I feel the need to fight. It’s strong, this need. I feel impatient."

"So you feel lust?" David asked as he slipped off the rest of his clothes, snatching his long underwear to put on.

Patrick snapped his eyes open, and he looked straight at David. "Lust?" he asked. David felt goosebumps, as Patrick had spoke, he felt his gaze go up and down his naked body. "Yes, I suppose it is a bit like lust," Patrick said. "Oui, mon cher, a lot like lust."
David sighed and slipped on his long underwear. "Aren’t you suiting up?" he asked Patrick.

Patrick sniffed and yawned again. "Sooner or later," he said. "I’m not playing tonight, it’s not imperative."

David sat back down, not eager for the weight of all his gear on. A weight so much more than what the other skaters had to contend with. It was a fitting weight, David concluded. A goaltender was responsible for so much in a game. Sixty minutes, stopping the pucks, winning or losing the game. A goalie never scored an important goal on his own, to be certain, but he could damage a perfectly sound defensive or offensive game, and he would be the goat of the loss regardless of how poorly the team had played. There was a heavy amount of pressure in that, a weight more than the other skaters.

Could the other skaters understand such a position? He didn’t think so. They could only get frustrated at the goals allowed, but they couldn’t truly understand or sympathize.

David looked at Patrick, his bratty chin was jutted out a bit and his eyes were still closed. So much energy was balled up in that man, that was something that David wanted.

"Are we alone, Patrick?" David asked softly. If Patrick was asleep then he didn’t want to be the one to wake him.

"Your eyes are open," Patrick mumbled. "You tell me. What’s on your mind?"

Crossing his arms over his stomach, David wrinkled his nose. He was losing his thought. He stared at the floor a bit, he could hear some conversations floating in the other rooms. And then he felt a bit odd. He looked back at Patrick who was still leaning against the wall, but now he was looking straight at him, his blue eyes looking rather soft.

"We’re alone, there’s no one here," Patrick said.

"I mean as we are," David said. "As goalies, are we alone? Do you know any player who understands what we are?"

Patrick leaned forward on his thighs and sighed. David met his gaze full on. He knew a lot of people who couldn’t bring themselves to look Patrick in the eye, but David had never had a problem with it. He liked Patrick’s eyes, they were interesting.

"No," Patrick said. "They don’t understand. They don’t understand why we put ourselves in this position and they resent us when we thwart them or fail them. Maybe a defenseman can understand us, but only a little. After all, we are here to mop up their mistakes."

"So we are alone." David said. "How depressing, darling, how depressing."

"No," Patrick said. "We have each other. We have our lovers. There’s a refuge in that."

"Lovers?" David laughed. "How quaint."

Patrick shrugged with a slight grimace, turning up his palms. "When you have a lover, watching your game and at your game, they see everything with a clarity that you never can. They see you in that position all alone, and they are there to comfort you. Jacques Plante wasn’t entirely right, we’re not all alone."

David laughed. "So only women see us clearly?"

Patrick smiled back. "I said lovers, not women."

There was a sharp electric jolt in David’s gut as he blinked and blushed under Patrick’s gaze. A smile twisted on his mouth. "Oooh, Patrick, lovely, what are you suggesting?"

Patrick smiled back and sniffed. "Nothing at all mon ami. Nothing at all."

David giggled and then stood up to get his gear together, he really needed to be dressed before Hartley came in. "You know, Patrick," David said. "This is the first time you’ve really...really talked to me. Have we made an understanding here?"

"We’ve talked before, I’ve given you advice," Patrick said with a frown.

"Yes," David said in French. "But you’ve never opened up so emotionally before. You just spoke from the heart a minute ago. I’ve always wanted to hear you from the heart."

Patrick raised his eyebrows.

David walked over to Patrick and sat next to him, his leg pressing against Patrick. Roy made no move to brush him off. "I knew," David said in French, putting his hand on Patrick’s thigh, "That if I got a little naked in front of you that you would open up!"

The scowl on Patrick’s face was priceless! He jumped up to his feet, glaring and sparking with his eyes. That was the look David wanted!

"You’re such a slut," Patrick snapped in French.

David couldn’t stop laughing, "Kiss my ass!" he hooted. "You’re beautiful!!"

"Just you wait," Patrick snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oooooooooh," David sighed as he fell back on the bench. "I can’t wait!"

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