by me
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: FAKE!
Pairing: Bates Battaglia/Erik Cole
Summary: Bates and Erik are bored on the plane to Montreal. They, uh, giggle a lot.
Notes: Short and stuff. This was written *before* the game. They did score the goals promised. Except Roddy. But he had 3 assists. Post-game to follow hopefully today.
Erik Cole couldn't stop smiling. They were somewhere in the darkening sky between Raleigh, North Carolina and Montreal, Quebec, and he was still smiling. In just under 24 hours he would play in a game that, if won, could take his young team to the Eastern Conference Finals for the first time in franchise history. To the third round. He shivered, his stomach turning over with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Not bad for a rookie.
"Colesy, are you ever going to sleep?"
He grinned more. "I can't fuckin' sleep, Batesy. Goddamn."
Bates grinned. "Leafs or Sens?"
"Leafs. I wanna play them."
"You wanna play their abused team."
"Hell yeah."
Battaglia laughed. "Damn, you're cruel."
"You know it."
Bates sighed and looked across the aisle. Swedes Nic Wallin and Tommy Westlund were both asleep. The young winger grinned. "Hey, Colesy..."
His linemate followed his gaze and smiled. "Yeah."
Bates took the cup of water form his tray and eased across the aisle. He balanced the glass on the edge of Nic's tray and went back to his seat. The two young forwards then sat staring at the defenseman.
A few minutes later, the plane bounced over a small bit of turbulence. The glass slid a little, then tipped and spilled into Wallin's lap.
The Swede jumped to his feet almost immediately. "Hey!"
Cole and Battaglia collapsed in laughter, nearly falling out of their seats. "That's not funny!" Wallin squealed.
"Jesus, what's going on back there?" Glen Wesley stood up, glaring at Nic, who was trying to futilely to wipe the water off his pants. Wallin pointed at the forwards. Wes groaned. "Roddy, those two belong to you," he said to the holder of the other 'A'.
"Do you guys know when we play again?" Rod asked his hysterical linemates.
"In 22 hours, 43 minutes, and 34 seconds," Erik replied promptly, checking his watch.
"Right. So why are you playing jokes on your teammates now?"
Bates smiled. "It's fun."
"And what else can we do?" Cole added.
Brind'Amour sighed. "If we lose tomorrow, I'm holding you personally responsible."
They looked at each other and broke into uncontrollable giggles. Again. Rolling his eyes, Rod patted Nic on the shoulder and returned to his seat.
With another glare at the forwards, Wallin sat down, getting a sympathetic look from his countryman as he dabbed at his damp lap with napkins.
Meanwhile, Erik and Bates had managed to restrain their laughter, though they started giggling again upon eye contact. It was kind of like an elementary school field trip bus ride. "Are you still bored, Colesy?"
"Yeah, I guess. Theoretically we should go to sleep."
Bates reached out for his hand, running his thumb along the knuckles. Erik watched him with a smile. "If I promise to score a goal for you, will you try to sleep?"
In response, Erik settled his head against Battaglia's shoulder. "I'm trying."
Smiling, Bates kissed his hair and rested his cheek against Erik's head. "You're so cute."
"I promise to score a goal for you if you quit calling me cute."
Bates giggled. "Fine. Done."
From the seat behind them, Brind'Amour leaned over. "Tell you boys what. If you go to sleep right now and quit cuddling and promise to not make out on the plane, I'll score for you too."
"Take out the cuddling part and you have a deal," Erik mumbled into Bates' shoulder.
Rod considered it and them for a moment. "Ok, done."
Smiling, Erik squeezed his linemate's hand. "Love you, Batesy."
"You, too," the older man replied, and shut his eyes.