by me
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: FAKE
Summary: Ilya comes to Calgary around the beginning of the Finals.
Notes: Well, the muses died on me so I couldn't finish the way I
wanted, but they came back at lesat so I get could get *some* kind of
ending on there.
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 3.1
Ilya stood for a good five minutes at the fence, watching the game
with a smile. It was a cool, dreary day in Calgary, but that didn't
stop the daily pick up street games from happening. The Russian's
grin broadened as he watched Dany weave through futile defense and
score. He skated over to the bench, pulling off his helmet, running
a hand through sweaty curls. He squirted water in his mouth and on
his face, then turned. And saw Ilya.
"Kovy?" he asked incredulously. "What the hell are you doing here?"
a smile grew on his face.
"To see you, of course. You mother told me you were here." He
pointed at the rollerblades and gloves at his feet.
"Well, come in, then! My team needs another player." He grinned,
knowing full well the other team would request restructuring with
Ilya's appearance. While Kovalchuk laced his skates, Dany conferred
with everyone else. There was some switching of jerseys and people
sorted out their new teams.
27 goals - 11 by Ilya, 7 by Dany - and 2 hours later, the players
called it a night and headed for the sidelines, sweaty and laughing.
Ilya took off one skate, then the other, and slipped his feet into
his shoes. "Dan?"
"Yeah?"
"I..." he lowered his voice. "I am very glad to see you again. I
missed you...a lot."
The Canadian's eyes smoldered as he met Ilya's gaze. "Me too, Kov.
And in just a few minutes, I'll show you just how much..."
Ilya shivered and got to his feet, following Dany to his car. "How'd
you get here, anyway?"
"Oh...your mom brought me. She seemed to like me a lot."
Dany laughed. "She just thinks I need you around."
"Do you?"
Dany looked around. It was nearly dark, and the gravel parking lot
was empty. He pulled Ilya over and kissed him, softly at first, but
then Ilya tangled his fingers in Dany's brown curls. Ilya moaned as
Dany's tongue curled around his, and his fingers tightened in
Heatley's hair as Dany nibbled his lower lip before they broke
apart. "Yes. Yes, I need you."
"Kiss me again, then."
"This car is not a good place for sex."
"Dany, I really couldn't care less right now."
Dany smiled. "Your English is better."
"I took more classes since I've been home."
"Good."
They kissed again, and Dany knew that there was no way the two of
them were going to able to get home without more. Ilya kept finding
ways to touch him, even in the game, and his skin burned every
time. "Come on, Dany," the Russian urged softly, his kisses trailing
down Dany's neck and across his shoulder.
"Ok," he breathed helplessly. "To the backseat at least?"
*
*
*
*
They drove home with the windows down, and Ilya contented himself
with watching the wind play with Dany's curls. Heatley glanced at
him and smiled. "I'm glad we can blame it on hockey, because you
look like you just had sex in the backseat of a car."
"Imagine that."
"Indeed."
Dany's mother greeted them at the door. "You're late," she informed
her son.
"I know..."
"It is my fault," Ilya said, smiling at her. "I made him show me
some things in Calgary."
She looked at the two of them. "I'm sure it is your fault, Ilya.
Leftovers are in the kitchen. And Dany?"
"Yeah, Mom?"
"If any of your hockey equipment does not end up in the closet
specifically designed for storing such equipment, you'll-"
"Ok, Mom," he sighed, cutting off her threat. "I know that."
"Yet it doesn't seem to help you put the stuff away..."
He smirked and led Ilya into the kitchen towards the food. "Where
are you sleeping?" Dany asked, as they ate.
"Your mother said that I should put my things in your room."
"You can sleep with me, then." He grinned. "On the floor."
Ilya nodded. "Right. The floor."
They kept looking for more things to eat until Dany's mother came
back in to herd them upstairs, muttering something about boys and
insatiable appetites. Dany shut his bedroom door with a sigh and
flopped down on the large bed. Ilya arranged himself more carefully
next to him. "So, why did you decide to come, Kovy? I mean, you
just kind of left Russia with no warning and flew to Calgary? It
seems kind of...sudden."
Ilya sighed. "I had to see you. I missed you so much, Dany.
It...it almost hurt. I had wanted to see you at World Championships,
but then my shoulder was still not healed. And now it is. I was...I
was kind of scared to come here though. I thought maybe you would
not want to see me. When you first looked at me today, and I saw you
smile, it was...big relief."
"Oh," Dany frowned. He pulled the nineteen-year-old winger against
him. "I can't believe you would think that I wouldn't want to see
you. I love you, you know that."
"Yes...but it has been 2 months that I have not really heard from
you."
Dany cursed himself mentally for not trying harder to keep in touch.
He'd been busy, with World Championships, but he still should've made
a greater effort. He was in love with him. What had he been
thinking? "I'm sorry, Ilya."
"Me too. But it does not matter now, yes?"
Dany's smile returned and he shook his head. As if attracted by
magnetic force, Ilya's finger weaved around a lock of brown
hair. "You and those curls..." Dany sighed, but he leaned into the
Russian's touch. Ilya stifled a yawn in the older man's shoulder,
making Dany realize that it was late. "Jesus," he muttered. "You
flew in from Russia today, and then I made you play like 2 hours of
hockey. You're exhausted, go take a shower and go to bed."
Ilya obeyed easily, and Dany made a bed on the floor while he was
gone. There was no need for EVERYONE in the house to know what was
between them, even if his mother apparently did. He kissed Ilya
quickly when he emerged, blinking sleepily. By the time Dany was
done with his shower, the Russian was asleep, sprawled across the bed.
Smiling, Dany shoved him to the side and slid in next to him. Ilya's
eyes opened a little, and one corner of his mouth turned up as he
settled himself against Dany. As Dany drifted into sleep himself, he
wondered how he had gone so long without that presence against him.