by me
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dany Heatley/Jeff O'Neill /barely/. (implied Dany/Ilya Kovalchuk and
Jeff/Bates Battaglia if you really care)
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: You know the drill. It's not terribly fluffy nor terribly humorous,
but it is non-smut so I guess it counts.
�Your problem, kid,� Jeff O�Neill said, tapping the young forward on the
chest, �is that you take things too seriously.�
�I do not!�
�You do. You�re all about respecting your elders and the game and shit.�
�There�s nothing wrong with that.� Dany Heatley stared at his empty shot
glass morosely. Magically, a bartender appeared and placed another one in
front of him. Suddenly happy, he downed it and pushed the empty glass to
a growing collection to his right. Then he looked back at O�Neill.
�Not with respecting the game, I guess. But you should get over your
elders.� He paused as the Thrasher adopted a wounded expression. �You�re
one of us, kid. You�re an equal.�
�You think?�
Jeff laughed and put back another shot to put him one ahead of Dany. �Kid,
you just scored five goals at 22 years old in your first All-Star Game.
Yes.�
�Four,� he mumbled, blushing.
�That�s your other problem, kid. Learn to take a compliment. You�re going to
be getting a lot of them over your career.�
�I can!�
Jeff pushed another shot of whiskey to him. �Mm-hm.� Dany scowled at him,
but was interrupted by his cell phone chirping. The Thrasher turned away
from Jeff to talk, but the Hurricane could read his body language
accurately enough, and did so until the call ended. �So is he jealous?�
�Who?�
�Don�t be dumb. Kovalchuk, of course.�
�How�d you...oh, never mind. No, he isn�t jealous.�
�Sure he is.�
�He�s proud of me.�
�Of course. He�s also jealous.�
�You don�t know him.�
�I know he�s an asshole.�
Dany muttered something that sounded suspiciously like �But he�s my asshole.�
�What was that, kid?�
�If I�m an equal and all, why don�t you stop calling me �kid�?�
�You are a kid.�
�Oh, shut up.�
O�Neill feigned shock. �You told me to shut up! Me, your elder! Progress!�
Dany rolled his eyes but grinned, which prompted more comments from O�Neill,
who was certainly enjoying himself now. �Oh, JR�s right, kid, that
smile�s a lot prettier with teeth.�
�Wow, Jeff, you�re so funny. Where�d you get that sense of humor?�
�Didn�t you watch the playoffs, kid? Coach Mo taught us lots of stuff.�
�And I�m sure your locker room is just full of laughter lately.�
Jeff�s eyes narrowed. �Hey, kid. That�s a line. You leave my team out of
this.�
�Fine, fine. It�s not like I don�t know how to lose.�
Jeff sighed, and Dany, even drunk, could see the frustration coloring his
features. �Not like this.� He drank a little more, though, and relaxed
again. �But that�s another story.�
�Sorry,� Dany said, biting his lip.
O�Neill glanced at him and couldn�t help a laugh. �That�s adorable kid, but
it makes you look about 6 years old.�
Smiling sheepishly, Dany answered, �Hey, maybe that�s what I�m going for!�
Looking over the accumulation of shot glasses in front of him, he stood up
slowly. �I�ll be right back.� Steadying himself with a hand on the bar
before venturing a step, he headed towards the restrooms.
Jeff watched him go. He was a little unsteady, but carried himself well.
O�Neill sighed. This could be a bad idea. Or, the back of his
mind offered, it�s a great way to spend an otherwise lonely Sunday
night. Maybe the back of his mind was right for a change.
About that time, Dany returned, and managed to keep from falling while
locating the bar stool again, though it was close. Jeff couldn�t help his
laughter, and after a minute Dany joined in. �If you�re having trouble
walking, kid, maybe you�ve had enough.�
�I am definitely old enough to decide that for myself.� Heatley swallowed one
more shot, set the glass down, and blinked. �That�s enough.�
Smirking, O�Neill signaled the bartender and they signed their tabs to their
respective rooms before heading towards the elevators, running into other
players to talk to along the way. In Dany�s case, this was literal, as a
very drunk, very small Martin St. Louis ran directly into him and fell
backwards. The Lightning forward was picked up by his teammate, who
shared an amused grin with Dany as Marty blinked and muttered �Walls
should move.�
They reached the elevator and Dany leaned against the wall gratefully, his
eyes half-closing, a contented smile settling over his face. �You did
good, kid.�
�Thanks,� he murmured.
�Hey, kid...� Jeff trailed off, but then decided he may as well ask. �You
with anybody?�
Somehow the question didn�t surprise him, and Dany thought about it. He
wanted to call it �dating� but it wasn�t really. Not yet, anyway.
Besides, Ilya was with Knyazev this weekend for a reason. �Nah,� he said
finally. �You?�
Jeff knew where Bates was this weekend. �Nope.�
So Dany leaned over and kissed him. The elevator jerked to a stop on what
wasn�t their floor and Jeff couldn�t resist saying, �Geez, kid, first you
tell your elders to shut up, then you kiss them?� Leaning back against
his wall, Dany dissolved into laughter as Rob Blake and Patrick Roy joined
them on the elevator, pushing a button for a floor 5 above theirs.
The elevator continued its upward path and Jeff noticed Dany was becoming a
stoic youngster again the presence of the two veteran Colorado players.
He cleared his throat. �Lighten up,� he muttered at Heatley.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Dany turned around halfway through
them, and with only the barest hint of a smile said, �Nice defense today,
Mr. Blake.� Jeff started laughing immediately, since Dany had made Blake
look pretty stupid, and after staring at Dany for about a second, both
veterans joined in.
�Good move,� Blake finally said, and Roy offered, �Nice goals.�
To which Dany blushed and stammered something about �Lucky shots� as the doors
closed.
Shaking his head in amusement, Jeff slung an arm around the All Star MVP�s
shoulders as they headed down the hall to his room. �Oh well. One step
at a time.�
Fin.