Title: Familiar Routine
by purpleatheist
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: After the Thrashers beat the Maple Leafs, their two
rookies go home.
Notes: Well, this is officially my first hockey fic. There's no going
back, now. I can't decide if I like it or not.
They walked out into the parking lot together, neither feeling the
chill in the Georgia air. It had been too good a night to feel the
cold. Not only had the Thrashers broken their winless streak by
beating the best team in the Eastern Conference 5-4, but both
rookies had had excellent games. Three point games, with two
goals and an assist apiece.
"So," Dany Heatley said to his companion as he pulled out of the
parking lot at Phillips Arena. "Your place or mine?"
A small smile graced the face of the eighteen-year-old winger.
"Yours, I think. I have no food."
"We just ate."
"For morning."
"Mine it is," the Canadian stated as he drove. It
wasn't far to Buckhead, and they spent the rest of the drive in
companionable silence.
"I am glad to see Ray score tonight," Ilya remarked in his broken
English as Dany kicked the door to his flat shut and tossed his
bag into another room.
"Yeah, four hundred. Seems like an unreachable mark right
now. Considering we're at fifteen, sixteen."
"I am having no doubt you will score 400, Dany."
"I think you tend to exaggerate my talent."
"I not exaggerate, Dan. We work very well together, yes?"
"Yes," Heatley said softly. "We work very well together."
"TV guy thought so. Said we knew everything about one
another."
"TV guy meant hockey, Kov. He didn't know everything we know
about each other."
"I am Russian, not stupid, Dany."
Dany grinned, showing the gap in his front teeth. "I know. He
was right, though. You know everything about me worth
knowing."
"I do?"
"You do." Dany realized they had been standing in the hall
during the whole conversation. "We can continue this sitting
down, you know."
The young Russian shrugged, then stepped forward and kissed
his linemate. Dany sighed and relaxed. It usually didn't take
long for post-game conversations to converge into this. Ilya got
frustrated with his inability to effectively communicate, even if he
could understand everything Dany was saying perfectly well.
This way, they didn't need words. This was one language,
something they both understood.
So Dany kissed him back, pulling him closer. Ilya always looked
younger here, out of his hockey attire, in the initmacy of one of
their apartments. Sometimes Dany forgot that he was just 18.
Not that 20 was a great deal different than 18, but it sometimes
felt that way.
But this was something he'd never been confused by. Not since
that first time, roommates during training camp, they'd hooked
up, mostly out of homesickness and fear. It had become familiar
now, to both of them, something that would always be there, after
a good game or a bad one. Athletes liked routines. And neither
young man saw any reason to break up this one.
It became intense quickly. The game had been good, and the
adrenaline hadn't quite quit flowing. They stumbled towards the
bedroom, leaving bits of clothing along the way, touching and
kissing as second nature. It hadn't taken them long ot know
each other as well as they knew themselves. They were
linemates and roommates and friends. Lovers wasn't much
beyond that.
Their passion was quick, easy. Neither was ready for any jump
in their sex life, and for now it was just hands and mouths and
friction, nothin gmore. Afterwards, the Russian lay with his head
on Dany's shoulder, his friend playing idly with his hair. "I am not
wanting to-"
"Don't," Dany interjected sleepily. "I don't want to."
"I don't want to," Kovalchuk agreed, always willing to take Dany's
quick grammar lessons. "I don't want to...to...to love you."
If his words surprised the right-winger, Dany didn't show it. "No.
No, I didn't want to love you, either."
Ilya sighed. "Fuck," he said. It was the first word Dany had
taught him. Along with the various other versions of it that could
be used to insult opposing players.
The word may have seemed out of context, but Dany knew to
what the Russian was referring. It as a little late to avoid falling
in love. "Yeah, Kovy. Fuck."
With a deep sigh, the young wing pulled the sheet closer around
him and settled down to sleep. Placing a final soft kiss on Ilya's
lips, Dany did the same.