Confliction 3
Dany dropped onto the bench in front of his locker, leaning back and letting
out a breath. Fuck, he had played a lot. He reached up and placed his
helmet and gloves in his locker, running a hand through his sweat-soaked
hair, feeling his muscles relax as the adrenaline flow ebbed. Winning
never got old, especially when you didn�t do it very often. Smiling, he
bent over to unknot his skate. Just outside, he heard a stick crack, and
his smile faded. He kept his attention on removing his skates, but he
felt Ilya brush by him to his adjacent locker, felt the anger and
unhappiness rolling off him.
He didn�t say anything to his friend, not here, not now. Instead he went
through his usual routine, at his usual speed. Pulled off his skates and
socks, tugged his jersey over his head, unbuckled his shoulder pads. He
slid his elbow and shin pads off and gave interviews in his underarmour
and hockey pants. By the time the reporters were satisfied he had cooled
down � the underarmour was supposed to regulate body temperature but he
had a feeling hockey players overloaded it � and finished stripping to
shower. He lingered there a bit longer than normal, then returned to his
locker and got dressed slowly, methodically. And then he sat down to wait.
He said goodbye to teammates as they passed him, offering no explanation as to
why he was sitting with his bag zipped, obviously ready to leave, and yet
waiting. Some of them didn�t have to ask, and he received a few glad-you-
care-�cause-I-wouldn�t-want-to-deal-with-him looks. They didn�t bother
Dany. He didn�t necessarily want anyone else �dealing� with Ilya, because
first of all he was Dany�s best friend, and secondly they might deal with
him in the wrong manner.
He was the only one left when the Russian was finally dressed and sat down
sheepishly beside Dany. �Can you...give me ride home?�
�You drove here, didn�t you?� Dany asked, frowning.
�I do not have very much gas in my car,� he explained softly, staring at the
ground.
Dany felt a surge of anger at his coach for decimating Ilya�s confidence to
the point where he didn�t even want to do the things that Dany had first
taught him. If he was feeling too insecure in his abilities to operate a
gas pump and pay with a credit card, how the hell was he supposed to score
goals? He didn�t tell Ilya that. Instead he reached into Ilya�s locker
for his keys. �How �bout you give me a ride? We�ll stop for gas.�
Kovalchuk nodded, and both of them shouldered their bags, Dany carrying the
sticks he never left behind. Dany didn�t say anything when Ilya slid into
the passenger�s seat of his own car. He didn�t mind driving, anyway, it
was a nice car. All the autograph seekers were gone by this time, and the
streets of downtown were clear. Dany pulled into the first 24-hour BP
station he found, rolling his eyes as Ilya offered him his card. Like he
couldn�t afford a tank of gas. The pay-at-the-pump thing seemed to be
broken, so he had to go inside anyway.
Ilya watched Dany lean against the car, waiting for the pump to finish. It
had been an unwelcome attack of nerves on the way to the Arena that
morning, the realization that he needed gasoline. He didn�t want to have
to decipher what the machine was asking him to do, he didn�t want to deal
with English-speakers� lack of sympathy to the language barrier, he didn�t
want to look stupid. Even Dany�s assurances that he was quite good at
English hadn�t fixed the insecurities completely.
Which was why he was so glad to see Dany had waited for him. He didn�t have
to, he�d played well, he was justified in going out with the guys, or
going home. To talk to Gagne, his mind told him, but he ignored
it. He didn�t want to think about that. Dany knew a lot about him, yes,
but he obviously didn�t know everything or he wouldn�t have been scared
when Ilya called him out about Simon.
He obviously didn�t know that Ilya slept with Patrik on a fairly regular
basis, not as an actual relationship, just as friends when they were both
bored. But Dany didn�t realize that, didn�t realize that Ilya was as gay
as he was and probably more so. He had been staring at his hands through
this mental process and didn�t notice Dany pull the door open and get in,
depositing a six-pack of Miller Light on Ilya�s lap. �You look like you
need this tonight.�
Ilya blinked at looked into Dany�s smiling blue eyes. �You bought me beer?�
�I did,� he said, pulling out of the gas station and towards the highway. He
gunned it on I-85, speeding north towards 400 and Buckhead. They got
there quickly without saying anything until Dany started up the exit ramp.
�You can come over,� Ilya said softly. Almost inaudibly. But Dany got in the
right lane instead of the left.
�Ok.�
So they went to Ilya�s condo and sat on the couch with the TV off, drinking
beer and talking like they hadn�t in quite some time. Dany told him that
Simon was frustrated with the way he was playing but was still ok and that
they hadn�t seen each other for a while but hopefully would soon.
And Ilya told Dany about Patrik. Dany got quiet then, and said he hadn�t
known that about either of them. Ilya just shrugged. What did it
matter? Dany asked slyly if that was why they were clicking so well on
the ice and Ilya couldn�t help but smile even though he didn�t want to
talk about hockey.
Dany noticed. He finished his second beer and tilted Ilya�s head up, their
eyes meeting in a meld of blue and brown. �Hang in there, buddy.
Really. You�ll be fine, we�ll be fine. We�ve been playing better,
anyway.�
�Without me.�
Dany sighed. �We have you. Your ice time will get back up. Look...I�m
sorry, Ilya. My defense isn�t any better than yours, and you�re right...a
third of the damn league uses illegal sticks.�
�But you�re...you.�
The simple explanation was enough, and it was true. They both knew it. Dany
sighed again and put his arm around Ilya�s shoulders as the Russian turned
to look at him. Their eyes locked again and Ilya moved a little first and
Dany moved the rest of the way and then they were kissing.
It was Ilya, not Dany, who pulled away. �Mnye zhal, Dany, I...�
�I should go.�
Ilya just nodded. And was quiet as Dany stood up, running a hand through his
hair. Dany snatched Ilya�s keys off the keyring, accidentally nudging the
light switch off in the process. Ilya flinched as the door slammed.
He sat there in the dark, motionless, still clutching the can of Miller Light
wondering how he had been so stupid.
Continued in part 4