by me
Rating: PG-13 'cause I said so.
Pairing: Sandis Ozolinsh/Arturs Irbe
Summary: Post-game 5. Ozo gets home.
Disclaimer: This is fake, fiction, not real. I'm not implying anything about
the values or orientations of those involved. It all originates in my
overactive imagination (comes from not having television as a child).
Notes: Watch as I ignore all family and canon! Except for Ozo's game and the
Ducks loss and things like that. And Irbe and Ozo really are good
friends. They're both from Riga and they were both Hurricanes for a
while, among other national team things.
Sandis Ozolinsh could barely summon the energy to unlock his condo door. He
was drained, emotionally and physically, exhausted from the game and from
beating himself up the entire � sleepless � flight home from Jersey.
So it was understandable that he didn�t register the lights that were on, or
that his security system had not gone off and required disarming. It was
even understandable that as he stepped into the living room, he may have
suspected he was dreaming as he watch the small, lithe body unfold itself
from his recliner.
But he couldn�t be dreaming. It was all too perfect. The always-calm, bright
eyes. The sleepy smile. The peek of perfectly sculpted abs when his
shirt pulled up as he stretched his hands over his head.
The only thing that came to Ozo�s mind was his name. "Archie?"
"I thought you�d never get home. It�s good to see you."
He knew for sure it wasn�t a dream now, because the familiar lilts of his
favorite voice speaking his native language were like a cooling wave as
they washed over him. He felt a smile despite the game, despite his
fatigue. "What are you doing here?"
A slight shrug, and the goalie said simply, "Last year, you were there for me."
Ozolinsh had been, somewhat bitter that it was a team he had so recently been
a part of, but he had been there through the whole Finals, because when
the Hurricanes lost, his best friend needed him.
And he would need the goalie if they lost, and want him there if they
won. "Thank you," he murmured.
Irbe pulled him close, and Sandis relaxed into the embrace, letting the
pressures of the day drift away.
Well, some of them. "I can�t believe I missed," he sighed, and Irbe
chuckled. "What?"
"I knew it wouldn�t take you long." He pulled back to focus his expressive
eyes on Ozo. "You played hard."
The defenseman looked away. "The goal off LeClerc was my fault and then...I
missed point blank, Archie. I HAD to score there."
"The series is not over, and you cannot focus on the past when the most
important game you play is the next one."
"You�re quoting my own words back."
"Yes, and hopefully I�ll be able to quote the I-told-you-so phone call you
graced me with after Game 4 in Montreal."
Sandis just smiled, and felt even better. "Thank you again for being here."
"It�s my pleasure. Now, why don�t you get some sleep. I can tell...you�re
exhausted."
Ozolinsh sighed. "Don�t know if I can."
The goalie�s eyes glinted. "I�ll help."
So Ozo allowed himself to be propelled towards the bedroom, and he sat down
without a word when Irbe pushed him. His eyes drifted half-shut, then all
the way shut, as Irbe crossed the room and out of his line of sight.
But he felt his old friend�s return, his closeness, and his lips parted
slightly in anticipation of the kiss he knew was coming. Which it did,
and Ozolinsh sighed, relaxing more, trying to put the troubles of the game
out of his mind, instead focusing on the calming aura that was Arturs Irbe.
His hands stroked down Irbe�s back, and Sandis could feel his muscle beneath
the thin t-shirt. And he marveled, as he often did, at how the man could
be so small and yet so powerful. Not bulky, but not an ounce of extra
fat, because Sandis didn�t know anyone who worked harder.
Archie slipped Ozo�s shirt off, urging him to a reclining position,
and settled next to him. "You need sleep."
"But-" In all honesty, the Duck didn�t know why he was protesting. He was
too tired to do anything.
"I�ll still be here in the morning. And I flew from Riga today." And he
curled his arm across the defenseman�s waist and melded against his side.
There was tension left in Ozolinsh now, he was calm. He was amazed at how
well Irbe knew him, how quickly he had disarmed him, made him forget the
game, made him stop worrying, and made him focus on the next step. No one
knew him better. "Quit thinking, sleep."
Sandis smiled, because it was another indication of their intimacy that Irbe
would say that. "I love you," he murmured.
"Love you too," was the mumble in return.
The words were sweeter in Latvian. Sandis slept.
Fin.