Apocalypse now
Title: Apocalypse now
Characters/pairings: Milan Lucic/David Krejci; Vladimir Sobotka/Marc Savard; Krejci/Sidney Crosby; Zdeno Chara; Shawn Thornton
Rating: PG-13 (language, violence)
Time: October 2008
Summary: Bruins vs. Penguins. It gets ugly.
Author's note: Not Penguins (especially Crosby) friendly. Please indulge the dramatic license; the author has nothing against the Pens. Please also forgive the technical shortcomings of the author, who would like to provide links to pertinent background stories but is unable to do so. Referenced stories include "Bite me, Sidney," "The morning after the night before" and the "Savard's Choice" series.
Disclaimer: A totally fictional story, written and submitted for entertainment purposes only.
"Milan..." David knew it was now or never. He had to let Lucic know exactly what had happened between him and Sidney Crosby the previous spring. He couldn't risk Milan going apeshit on Crosby if something happened on the ice that night when the Penguins played the Bruins.
"Mmmmmm...?" Lucic responded, snuggling closer to his teammate, roommate, bedmate. He loved this time of day, early in the morning (but not too early), lying in bed together, reveling in each other's bodies. He couldn't get enough of his beautiful Czech. "What is it, Krech?"
"Remember that time you said I wasn't afraid of anything?"
"Uh, yeah. Why?"
"Because there's something I am afraid of," Krejci responded. He took a deep breath. "And I've got to tell you about it. Remember that night last spring when we played the Penguins?"
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"Why, that rat bastard," Lucic said as Krejci finished his tale.
"It was my fault," Krejci said. "I never should have gotten on him like that. I humiliated him."
"So he humilated you back," Lucic said. "But what he did to you was ten times worse, David. He didn't have to abuse you like that. And then to turn around and backstab Savvy, when Marc hadn't done anything to him, that's just unbelievable. I hope I'm on the ice against him tonight, 'cause I'm gonna fucking kill him."
"No, Milan, that's why I told you! I don't want you to do anything! You go after him, you'll get in trouble, he'll know there's something between us - I just can't take any more!"
"OK, David, OK. Calm down. I won't go after him. But I can't say I won't slam the shit out of him if I get the chance," Lucic said.
"I don't expect anything less," Krejci said, hugging Lucic close. "Let's just win the game. That's the best revenge."
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Vladimir watched Marc closely as they dressed in the Garden locker room before the game. To the unsuspecting eye, Savard was his usual exuberant, cheerful self, joking around, tossing the usual verbal barbs at his teammates. "Home opener, Savvy!" the Bruins' Web site writer said. "You nervous?"
"Hell no!" Savvy replied. "'Bout time we got home! I'm pysched!"
Vladdie sat down next to Marc and leaned over as both players bent to tie their skates. "Savvy," he whispered. "Are you scared?"
"Shitless, Vladimir," Savard said. "Absolutely fucking shitless. Don't tell anyone." He stood up and shouted cheerfully at Aaron Ward, then pulled his jersey on, clapped his helmet on his head, grabbed his stick and gloves, and headed for the ice. Sobotka watched, biting his lip, then hastened to join him.
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Krejci tried his best to ignore the Penguins during the pregame skate, but he couldn't help casting glances, looking furtively for number 87. Crosby appeared indifferent to the Bruins, but at one point he lifted his head and caught Krejci's eye. He grinned, a decidedly feral grin, and David hastily looked away.
The game got under way, Savvy's line against Crosby's, the two players deliberately ignoring each other. The Bruins sustained some good offensive pressure, though they didn't manage to score, and Marc breathed a sigh of relief as he skated to the bench. It looked like everything had been forgotten and they could just play hockey.
Looking back on it later, he realized he should have known better.
A few more shifts and Savard's line was heading back onto the ice, but it wasn't Crosby out to face him. It was Mike Zigomanis, with Matt Cooke on the wing. Michael Ryder started to follow Savard over the boards, but he felt a hand grab his arm, and turned. It was Zdeno Chara. "Claude," the Bruins captain called to his head coach. "Send Shawn out."
Julien didn't hesitate. "Get out there, Thorny," he said. Shawn Thornton jumped over the boards and followed the diminutive center, close on his heels.
Gliding in for the faceoff, concentrating hard, Savard didn't notice that he had a different wing. Nor did he register Cooke staring at him from the other side, practically vibrating with surpressed energy. Thornton dug in his skates, then raced forward as Marc swiped at the puck, knocked it to the corner, and drove after it, with Cooke following at freight train speed.
"SAVVY!" Sobotka screamed from the bench as Cooke charged straight at the Bruins center, raising his stick high.
He didn't hear Vladdie's warning; it was his astounding peripheral vision that saved his life. Spotting Cooke out of the corner of his eye, Savard pivoted on his skates and ducked. The stick swung through where his head had been a moment before, slamming into the glass with a resounding CRACK! The crowd gasped, then roared as Thornton swooped in, dropped his gloves and stick in one fluid, violent motion, grabbed Cooke and heaved him into the boards like a rag doll.
"Savvy! SAVVY!" Vladimir was still screaming, trying to climb over the boards and onto the ice. Krejci lunged, grabbing him around the waist. "Milan! Help me!" he shouted, trying desperately to hold Vladimir back. Lucic dropped his stick and wrestled Sobotka to the bench. "Shawn's got him, Vladdie! Marc's OK! Control yourself!" He had to shout in Vladimir's ear as the Garden crowd was roaring, encouraging Thornton, who was pounding the prone Cooke despite the linesmen's best attempts to pull him off.
Savard, shaking, turned and looked at the Bruins bench, saucer-eyed, searching for Sobotka. Finally they locked eyes and Savvy forced a smile. I'm OK, he mouthed, turning back to watch the fight, such as it was. Thornton at last let go of Cooke, who was face down on the ice in the classic turtle position, surrounded by spatters of blood. The Bruins enforcer skated toward the penalty box, shaking his head and muttering as the crowd cheered. He glared at the Penguins bench as he skated by. "Fuck all of you!" he shouted. "Especially you, Crosby!"
Most of the Penguins looked abashed, but Crosby just smiled.
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David was restless amongst the press of media in the locker room, most of them surrounding Savvy, Zdeno and Shawn. He nodded to Milan (I'll see you on the bus) and headed out of the locker room, seeking fresh air to calm his thumping heart.
He left the Garden via the back exit, letting the heavy door slam behind him, and walked away from the street, behind the building, breathing the sea air (well, the harbor air, anyway) and looking up at the half moon. Suddenly he sensed he wasn't alone, but before he could react, a pair of strong arms had grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Teeth met the back of his neck. A seductive voice purred in his ear. "Well, well, if it isn't my little Czech rookie, all grown up." Crosby. David froze.
"Still afraid of me, bastard?" Crosby breathed, snaking his left hand toward Krejci's crotch. David found his voice. "I'm not afraid of you. I've never been afraid of you." But he found himself unable to move as Sidney's hand slid between his legs. Crosby laughed. "Oh, that's good. 'Cause you sure feel ready for me. You wanna bend over, or..."
"No!" David wrenched away, wincing as he tore himself out of Sidney's grasp, turning and giving the Penguins captain a hard shove. Crosby blinked, then grinned, "Oooh, I like it when you're fiesty, David," he said deliberately, moving closer. "C'mon, we've got time for a quickie before we go, don't we?"
"I said no!" Krejci said, backing away, trying not to look into Crosby's eyes. His back slammed into the wall of the Garden as he watched Sidney close in, trying to gauge when best to dart away.
"CROSBY!" a voice roared. David looked up, almost fainting with relief. It was Chara. The massive Bruins captain loomed out of the darkness, closing the gap to the two young players in a few steps. "What the FUCK are you doing?"
Sidney turned, regarding Chara with an insolent grin. "Sorry, Zdeno," he sneered. "I didn't know Krejci was your bitch."
David gasped as Zee's right arm shot out, catching Crosby under the chin, pinning him against the wall. Sidney pulled helplessly against the massive hand encircling his throat, making feeble choking noises. Chara regarded him, stone-faced.
"David Krejci is nobody's bitch," he said. "Least of all yours." He tightened his grip, almost imperceptively, and Crosby's eyes started to roll back in his head. Chara let go, and the Penguins star dropped to his knees, clutching at his windpipe.
"Go get on the bus, David," Chara said, standing over Crosby. "Sidney and I have some things to talk about."
Krejci hastened away, getting to the bus just as Lucic came out of the Garden. Milan's eyebrows shot up. "David, what's the matter? You see a ghost?"
David shook his head and and leaped onto the bus, running towards the back and throwing himself into a window seat. Milan followed, sliding into the seat beside him. "What the fuck happened?" he asked in a whisper.
"Crosby. He followed me - he - he," Krejci waved helplessly, at a loss for words. Milan leaped to his feet. "Where? I'll kill that bastard!"
"Milan, no!" David pulled him down, then managed to gasp out what had happened. "Zee's with him now. Killing him or talking to him, I don't know. I don't want to know."
"I do!" Milan said, standing again. "There he is now. Zdeno!" he called, waving.
Chara, looking as unruffled as ever, smiled and made his way up the aisle, sitting down opposite David and Milan. "Don't worry, David," he said. "Everything's fine."
"Didja kill him, Zee?" Lucic asked.
Chara rolled his eyes. "No, Milan, for God's sake," he said. "Just talked to him. Captain to captain."
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"I think we've both had enough of this, haven't we, Sidney?" Chara asked as Crosby staggered to his feet, still rubbing his throat. "Time to call off the dogs, and time for you to leave David alone, for good."
"And why should I?" Crosby tried to sneer, but coughed instead, spoiling the desired effect.
"Because we both know, Sidney, Eric Godard alone isn't going to do it for you. Matt fucking Cooke, please. You can't match up against us. Not against Thornton, AND Lucic, AND Stuart, and... me." Chara deliberately cracked his knuckles and smiled, dangerously. "Somebody's going to get seriously hurt, and the odds are it's not going to be one of us. So start acting like a man, not a boy, and use your head."
Crosby glared up at Chara, then nodded. "You win. No more bullshit. And I'll leave the little..." Chara growled. "... uh, David, alone. I promise."
"That's better," Chara said. "See you down the road, Sidney." He turned on his heel and left.
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Later that night, tucked together in bed in a Buffalo hotel room, Krejci whispered to Lucic.
"Milan... I... I'm so ashamed."
"Why, David?"
"Because... because..."
"Because part of you still wanted him."
"How... how did you know?"
"I know you the same way you know me, David. I understand. He's sexy, and fuckin' gorgeous, and dangerous, and a bastard, and he's hard as hell to resist. You think I can't see that?"
"Milan... I don't..."
"Shhhhh. You do. Now shut the fuck up, OK?"
"OK," Krejci said, opening his mouth to Milan's lips, pulling him close. "Milan, I..."
"I know," Lucic said. "David, believe me, I know."