Brett Hull: 
Brendan Shanahan: 
Steve Yzerman: 
Chris Chelios: 
by purpleatheist
Rating: PG-13. It's tame.
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).
Pairing: Hull/Shanahan, hints of Chelios/Yzerman
Summary: the plane ride back to Detroit for the 4 gold-medal game participants.
Notes: I apologize for the Chelios/Yzerman, but they begged. And note my
baseball slash reference. And Chris Drury really did pitch his team to a
Little League World Series victory over Taiwan (or "Chinese Taipei" to be
PC), as I'm sure you know, because the announcers mentioned it SEVERAL
times. I also apologize for redundancy because I know that I've said this
stuff before and so have other people. Oh, and I hate that I titled this
story with that word...
"No one remembers who won silver."
"I remember who won silver."
"Hully, that's because *we* won silver."
"Seriously, though, you're right, Cheli," Steve Yzerman said. "You ask the
random sports fan who won in Nagano and they'll say the Czech Republic.
Ask them who the Czechs beat, you'll get silence."
"Yeah, but that doesn't apply here," Brendan chimed in from across the aisle,
where he'd been exiled from the other three. "Everyone will remember.
Because it was Canada against the USA. So, North Americans will remember.
And Europeans will be bitter that it was Canada vs the US, so they'll
remember."
"Just what I want to be remembered for," Chelios said lightly. "Leading my
team to silver."
"Ah, Cheli, you did a great job," Brett said, patting his knee.
Yzerman and Shanahan exchanged glances, trying to decide whether or not to get
involved, but Stevie's captain instincts kicked in and he took his
friend's hand. "You did do a great job."
Chelios sighed. From across the aisle, Brendan said, "Why do I have to be over
here, anyway?"
Brett looked back and forth between his two teammates. Stevie hadn't released
Chris' hand. "I'll sit with you, Bren," he said, leaving his aisle seat
and sliding past Brendan to sit closer than was necessary in the empty
window seat. "There, happy?"
Brendan smiled. "Yes." He rested his head on Brett's shoulder and sighed.
"What?" Brett asked, playing with his hair idly.
"I won a gold medal. I fucking won a gold medal." He smiled again.
Brett smiled back, feeling a little sad, but only a little. The plane was dim,
and they were almost alone in first class, so Brett ducked his head for a
quick kiss. "Yeah, you did. With a broken thumb."
Brendan looked down at his hands, the thumb of one splinted. "Yeah, it kind of
hurt."
"Meaning you didn't feel it at all."
"Yeah, basically."
Brett laughed softly, and Brendan sighed again against him. "Are you actually
tired?"
"I didn't sleep at all last night," Bren said, shutting his yes.
Arm around him in a somewhat protective manner, Brett looked at the other two
players. They were speaking in hushed voices, fingers still entwined.
Brett sat back, his thoughts turning inward. He had mixed emotions
regarding the Olympics. It could easily be his last, and the silver wasn't
adequate in that respect. But it was still pretty good, and they'd had a
great tournament overall.
And it was nice to be back with the Detroit guys, too. His gaze dropped to
Shanny, who was asleep and drooling on his shoulder. Cheli and Stevie had
quieted and were just sitting, dozing, shoulder to shoulder. They had to
have the most 'bonded' clubhouse in hockey. And it wasn't just the four of
them, either. Draper, McCarty, and Maltby were sort of sketchy, and the
younger guys...Christ. Brett was relatively certain they'd all slept with
one another at least once. Of course, his previous teams hadn't been much
better. He wondered briefly if other sports were the same way, but had
trouble imagining baseball players in the same position he and Shanny
were. He should've asked Chris Drury while he had the chance.
Shanny shifted on his shoulder, trying to get more comfortable. Brett nudged
him, and Shan blinked sleepily at him. "What?"
"Put your seat back, stupid," Brett said, grinning.
"Oh, right. I knew that." He did put his seat back, then reached over and did
the same to Brett's. "I want your shoulder."
"That's so sexy, Bren."
"Shut up, Hully," Brendan growled, settling on Brett's shoulder again. "And go
to sleep. I know you couldn't sleep last night, either."
"Yeah, yeah." But Brett shut his eyes, leaning his head against Brendan.
*
*
*
*
Across the aisle, Steve leaned across Chelios, grinning. "Aren't they cute."
"No," Chelios said. "Not really. But they are being really fucking obvious."
"You say that as you're holding my hand."
"Yeah, well..."
"Leave them alone. You're not a captain anymore," Steve replied, with a slight
smile.
Chris sighed and shifted. "Yeah."
"You really liked it, didn't you?"
"Yeah...being on your team has limited my leadership opportunities."
"You don't need a C to be a team leader. You are one anyway."
"I know. And you're a great captain, Stevie." Chris was silent for a moment,
then grinned. "Hey, do you have your medal with you?"
"Are you kidding? I'm not letting it out of a like 1-foot radius of me." He
reached into his carry-on bag, giving the medal to Chris, who ran his
fingers over it and sighed. "Painful?"
"Slightly. It's kind of a dull ache. Being so close. I'm pretty damn happy
with silver, though."
"Yeah, I know."
"I know you do." Chris handed the medal back. Muffled laughs interrupted
them. "They're up," Chris commented, "and cuddling." He rolled his
eyes. "That's sickening."
"At least things are back to normal," Stevie remarked, inching as close as he
could to Chris without being accused of cuddling.
Squeezing his hand, Chelios agreed. And cuddled back.