[Fic: Hockey RPS] Set Fire to the Third Bar; Richards/Lecavalier; Lundqvist/Richards; NC-17
You know when I said L'aveu de L'amour was one of the hardest parts to write in this entire verse, well ... I lied. This one was. I feel like I just rambled on and on here. Oh well, enjoy it anyway. ♥ *g*
Disclaimer: None of this is true. Any resemblance to existing places, and or names is entirely coincidental. No harm or offense intended. Title from the song by Snow Patrol.
Notes: Covers the time during the Boston Bruins game on March 4th. Eleventh in the Hide the Night-verse.
Warnings: mild dirty talk, comeplay.
Set Fire to the Third Bar
past Brad Richards/Vince Lecavalier; Henrik Lundqvist/Brad Richards; NC-17
Speaking in riddles gets a person nowhere
Set Fire to the Third Bar
If Brad had known this was the way end was always going to be, he never would have let a situation start to begin with.
It wasn't that he didn't like dealing with the end, it was just .. he never thought it would hurt as much as it always did. He should know not all ends were a bad thing. Sometimes the end was appropriate.
But, the finality in Hank's tone when he said: "I care about you too much to watch you destroy yourself like this" cut Brad to the core.
It felt like one more goodbye in a long string of goodbyes over the course of his life. One more goodbye in which he had no control over. Brad was notorious at cataloguing his life in his mind. There were the times he had said goodbye, in which, he'd had control over. The list he had of those was fairly short. Saying goodbye to his parents at Athol Murray was on that list.
But then there was the list of goodbyes in which he'd had no control over. Which was where the goodbye Hank created was catalogued.
Vinny takes up a good chunk of his memories, and goodbyes. His very first non-controllable goodbye was with Vinny, of course. It was not the one everyone thought it was. Everyone assumed it was when he left Tampa because of his trade to Dallas. Which, Brad knew, was a goodbye, of course, but the Dallas goodbye was … goodbye number four.
Not that Brad had numbered them of course.
No, the first goodbye was in 1996, when Vinny left for Juniors.
It starts the same way.
Vinny and him hurrying back to their dorm after practice. Vinny shoving Brad down onto the bed, pulling Brad's shirt up as he went, not caring that Brad was still trying to catch his breath after their jog across campus. They were running on adrenaline, and excitement at the school year almost being over. Vinny tastes like soap and poplin, the taste lingers on Brad's tongue as he breathes him in. Gets absolutely fucking high on it, he doesn't think he ever wants Vinny's taste to leave him. He laughs when he stumbles before falling unceremoniously onto the bed. Vinny laughs too, and widens the cradle of Brad's legs with his knee.
Brad kicks off his shoes, and curls a leg around Vinny's hip, gasping slightly when the crotch of his pants bumps against Vinny's thigh. He feels clumsy as he fumbles with his pants, as he tries to shake them off. His hands are shaky on his and Vinny's belt. He breathes shallowly against Vinny's ear, as he ruts against his thigh. Vinny is silent as he runs a hand through Brad's hair, across his cheek, and down his chest. He mutters broken syllables in French and English. Words Brad is sure Vinny knows he can understand.
"Le cœur a ses raisons …"
"Que la raison ne connaît pas," Brad responds almost automatically.
The two phrases somehow becoming an endearment for them, ever since the first time he came in Vinny's mouth.
Vinny gasped loudly as Brad shifted their positions, so the crotches of their pants rubbed against the other.
"Feels … feels so good," Vinny breathed, as Brad rocked his hips against him.
"Don't … don't stop, Vinny."
Vinny bit his bottom lip, words failing him, as he shook his head, and dipped his head to mouth Brad's shoulder, neck, cheek. He wanted to taste as much of Brad as he possibly could. Wanted to commit every inch of flesh, skin, and taste to his memory. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to block the memories of being in their coach's office, shaking hands of the scouts, and knowing …
Brad's hands roamed Vinny's back, his fingertips pressing into the muscles of his shoulder blades as they flexed and contracted. Vinny shivered as Brad traced his index finger down his spine, revelled in the sensations it shot through his system.
His touches became more insistent, more demanding, more hurried. Vinny gripped Brad's shoulder as he felt his hand close around his cock.
"Shit, Brad," he hissed. Vinny's chest heaved, and his arms strained with the effort of keeping his upper body off of him.
"Please, Vinny," he gasped, hips squirming with the effort to not thrust up against him.
Vinny gripped Brad's hips to steady him, as he stared down at him. "Brad," he choked out, "we … I … I have to … have to tell you … tell you something."
Brad lurched up to kiss Vinny, his free hand closing around the nape of Vinny's neck, as he pulled him down to him.
"It can wait," he murmured against Vinny's lips. "Please, Vinny. I want to feel you."
"Brad," Vinny choked out, wrenching his head far enough out of Brad's grip. "I …" He finally disentangled himself enough to sit up on his heels, hand resting on Brad's stomach. "Coach called me into his office earlier today to tell me something."
Brad was climbing up into a sitting position then, eyes flickering across Vinny's face. "What is it?"
Vinny averted his eyes then, taking in the threadbare quilt and cotton sheets. "I've been drafted," he whispered quietly.
Brad looks at him, dark eyes with hints of amber and gold running through them, unblinking. His hair still damp from the showers, the light from their room reflecting off the lighter strands. Vinny thinks it makes Brad look angelic. It takes his breath away.
He does not expect the fist Brad throws at his face. The dull thud of Brad's fist as it connects with the side of Vinny's lip shakes him to the core. Vinny does not realize he is flat on his back, hands trying desperately to grab hold of Brad's wrists as his fists blindly attack him.
"You can't leave!" Brad yells. "We said we'd leave together! You can't just leave like this! I can't … I can't …"
And then, Vinny feels Brad gasping for air above him, fists balled at his side, as he crumbles and falls apart.
Vinny lies stock still against the mattress, dumb struck. "Brad," he tries, reaching a hand out to him. Brad doesn't resist as Vinny pulls him down next to him. "Brad, Brad, Bradley …"
Brad sobs softly against Vinny's chest. "You're leaving … why didn't … why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Vinny closes his eyes, presses a hand against the back of Brad's head, lets his fingers stroke through Brad's hair. "Le cœur a ses raisons," he whispers reassuringly against Brad's ear.
"Que la raison ne connaît pas," Brad returns. "Je suis à toi."
"Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi," Vinny says earnestly. "It'll work itself out," he promises.
Brad rubs his nose against Vinny's cheek. "Promise?"
"I promise."
-x-
Brad was drafted in 1997 for the Rimouski Océanic. Vinny had kept his promise.
In 1998, Brad watched Vinny be selected first overall in the entry draft.
Looking back on it all, Brad supposes it was really a fool's errand to believe anything that happened at Athol Murray still held any weight now. He blamed the overreaction at Vinny's drafting to Rimouski Océanic on them being just kids.
And, just as kids do, they eventually grow up. Except, in his and Vinny's case, they grew up together. They watched the other flirt with girls, date, and break a few dozen hearts along the way.
So, in 2001, when Vinny told him about a pretty brunette, named Caroline, Brad brushed it off as just another girl. Another notch in Vinny's belt.
Except, there was something about the way they looked at each other that froze all proper forms of speech in Brad's throat.
And, so for the sake of everyone involved, Brad withdrew from Vinny. He told himself he was happy for Vinny if he was happy. What else could he do? Except, it was just so easy for them being together all the time to fall back into the other's arms.
-x-
"This doesn't change anything for us," Vinny says on their first road trip away in the 2001-2002 season.
Brad wants to believe him so bad it hurts. He can think of a thousand reasons to say no to Vinny's desperate caresses in the dark, but he doesn't say no. He lets Vinny take liberties with his body that night. Lets Vinny undress him, lets Vinny close his mouth over his dick, and watches as Vinny pulls back at the very last moment, urging Brad to come on his face.
"Le cœur a ses raisons," Vinny whispers, as he curls his body against Brad's.
And, Brad wants to say: "Que la raison ne connaît pas." Knows it is what Vinny wants him to say, except, as he lies in the dark, with Vinny pressed against his back, he finds the words clumsy.
He pretends he's fallen asleep as Vinny mutters "Le cœur a ses raisons" again.
-x-
Eventually, Dallas happened. They had sex one last time the night before Brad leaves.
Brad fucks himself on Vinny's cock, his hands have a death grip on Vinny's wrists. They were sweaty, and breathless. Brad listened as Vinny urged him on. Told him to take what he wanted. What he needed. Told him he would see him the next time they were in the same city.
Brad left bruises and crescent-moon shaped indentations on Vinny's wrists and arms, before he finally surrendered and came in hot, white spurts on Vinny's stomach.
-x-
They part at the entrance to Tampa's airport. They're surrounded by the burning hot asphalt, long columns of glass, and sky-reaching palm trees. Vinny can hear the roar of the planes overhead, and the sounds of car horns.
Brad has a suitcase gripped tightly in his hand, a bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes are hidden by a pair of sunglasses. Vinny reaches a hand out, fingers brushing Brad's. Brad glances at him, and Vinny wants desperately to tell him everything will be all right. Except, he knows it won't be. They were stupid enough to believe they were untouchable.
This is just … business.
Brad turns then, and walks away. Vinny watches his retreating back.
No more words were said.
-x-
They were like two sides of a coin, like magnets. The constant pull making it harder to admit maybe they were over. Brad wants to cling to every moment he has ever had with Vinny.
Anything to make it through a night. A day. Over time, the distance helped. It calmed the dreams.
He's not sure why he agreed to the week-long boat trip after Dallas was eliminated from the playoffs in 2008. Maybe he was just that masochistic. Or maybe he still held out hope that they could still shine as brightly as twin stars. Maybe, just maybe, they could still retire together.
"Je vais t'aimer toujours," Vinny said after they came back from the boat trip.
And, Brad believed him.
Neither speaks as Vinny drops him at Tampa International Airport.
-x-
The morning of their Sunday game against Boston, Brad watches Hank as he tapes his stick, checks and re-checks his pads, and equipment. He watches the slope of Hank's shoulders as he examines his stick, the earbuds in his ears blocking out the sounds of the locker room.
He can't help but think how miserable Hank looks. And, there's a feeling that shoots through Brad's system as Hank turns his head slightly, eyes landing briefly on him, before they look away.
As they leave the locker room, Brad hangs back slightly, waits until Hank passes him, and he whispers just low enough so Hank is the only one who hears: "I'm sorry."
The win against Boston makes it the third one against them during the season. It also puts them twelve-points ahead of Boston, and the leader in the Eastern Conference.
It sends a wave of jubilation through the locker room after the game. Stepan is awarded the Broadway Hat for his game winning goal.
Brad showers and dresses quickly, and slips from the locker room. He gets to his car, and finishes loading his equipment when he sees Hank walking towards him.
He half-expects Hank to stop when he sees him. Hank stops briefly, sizes Brad up with his piercing blue eyes, and hesitates.
"I'm sorry," Brad says again.
"For what?"
"For everything." Brad meets Hank's eyes. "I … I've been thinking about what you said. About people knowing when they're conquered."
"Like I said, if you have to ask me what I meant by that, you'll never know."
"So that's it then?"
"I can't … I can't watch you hurt yourself like this anymore, Brad."
"How do you expect me to be whole if you won't stop talking in riddles?"
Hank laughs. It makes Brad want to hit him. Instead, he watches as Hank steps closer, the smell of soap and cologne tickling Brad's nose. "You have to start somewhere, Brad."
He leans in, and brushes his lips against Brad's forehead. "I hear the beginning is a pretty good place to start."
Hank is gone when Brad opens his eyes again.
-x-
→ Je suis à toi. - I am yours
→ Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi - I can't live without you
→ Je vais t'aimer toujours - I will love you forever/I will always love you
Disclaimer: None of this is true. Any resemblance to existing places, and or names is entirely coincidental. No harm or offense intended. Title from the song by Snow Patrol.
Notes: Covers the time during the Boston Bruins game on March 4th. Eleventh in the Hide the Night-verse.
Warnings: mild dirty talk, comeplay.
Set Fire to the Third Bar
past Brad Richards/Vince Lecavalier; Henrik Lundqvist/Brad Richards; NC-17
Speaking in riddles gets a person nowhere
Set Fire to the Third Bar
If Brad had known this was the way end was always going to be, he never would have let a situation start to begin with.
It wasn't that he didn't like dealing with the end, it was just .. he never thought it would hurt as much as it always did. He should know not all ends were a bad thing. Sometimes the end was appropriate.
But, the finality in Hank's tone when he said: "I care about you too much to watch you destroy yourself like this" cut Brad to the core.
It felt like one more goodbye in a long string of goodbyes over the course of his life. One more goodbye in which he had no control over. Brad was notorious at cataloguing his life in his mind. There were the times he had said goodbye, in which, he'd had control over. The list he had of those was fairly short. Saying goodbye to his parents at Athol Murray was on that list.
But then there was the list of goodbyes in which he'd had no control over. Which was where the goodbye Hank created was catalogued.
Vinny takes up a good chunk of his memories, and goodbyes. His very first non-controllable goodbye was with Vinny, of course. It was not the one everyone thought it was. Everyone assumed it was when he left Tampa because of his trade to Dallas. Which, Brad knew, was a goodbye, of course, but the Dallas goodbye was … goodbye number four.
Not that Brad had numbered them of course.
No, the first goodbye was in 1996, when Vinny left for Juniors.
It starts the same way.
Vinny and him hurrying back to their dorm after practice. Vinny shoving Brad down onto the bed, pulling Brad's shirt up as he went, not caring that Brad was still trying to catch his breath after their jog across campus. They were running on adrenaline, and excitement at the school year almost being over. Vinny tastes like soap and poplin, the taste lingers on Brad's tongue as he breathes him in. Gets absolutely fucking high on it, he doesn't think he ever wants Vinny's taste to leave him. He laughs when he stumbles before falling unceremoniously onto the bed. Vinny laughs too, and widens the cradle of Brad's legs with his knee.
Brad kicks off his shoes, and curls a leg around Vinny's hip, gasping slightly when the crotch of his pants bumps against Vinny's thigh. He feels clumsy as he fumbles with his pants, as he tries to shake them off. His hands are shaky on his and Vinny's belt. He breathes shallowly against Vinny's ear, as he ruts against his thigh. Vinny is silent as he runs a hand through Brad's hair, across his cheek, and down his chest. He mutters broken syllables in French and English. Words Brad is sure Vinny knows he can understand.
"Le cœur a ses raisons …"
"Que la raison ne connaît pas," Brad responds almost automatically.
The two phrases somehow becoming an endearment for them, ever since the first time he came in Vinny's mouth.
Vinny gasped loudly as Brad shifted their positions, so the crotches of their pants rubbed against the other.
"Feels … feels so good," Vinny breathed, as Brad rocked his hips against him.
"Don't … don't stop, Vinny."
Vinny bit his bottom lip, words failing him, as he shook his head, and dipped his head to mouth Brad's shoulder, neck, cheek. He wanted to taste as much of Brad as he possibly could. Wanted to commit every inch of flesh, skin, and taste to his memory. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to block the memories of being in their coach's office, shaking hands of the scouts, and knowing …
Brad's hands roamed Vinny's back, his fingertips pressing into the muscles of his shoulder blades as they flexed and contracted. Vinny shivered as Brad traced his index finger down his spine, revelled in the sensations it shot through his system.
His touches became more insistent, more demanding, more hurried. Vinny gripped Brad's shoulder as he felt his hand close around his cock.
"Shit, Brad," he hissed. Vinny's chest heaved, and his arms strained with the effort of keeping his upper body off of him.
"Please, Vinny," he gasped, hips squirming with the effort to not thrust up against him.
Vinny gripped Brad's hips to steady him, as he stared down at him. "Brad," he choked out, "we … I … I have to … have to tell you … tell you something."
Brad lurched up to kiss Vinny, his free hand closing around the nape of Vinny's neck, as he pulled him down to him.
"It can wait," he murmured against Vinny's lips. "Please, Vinny. I want to feel you."
"Brad," Vinny choked out, wrenching his head far enough out of Brad's grip. "I …" He finally disentangled himself enough to sit up on his heels, hand resting on Brad's stomach. "Coach called me into his office earlier today to tell me something."
Brad was climbing up into a sitting position then, eyes flickering across Vinny's face. "What is it?"
Vinny averted his eyes then, taking in the threadbare quilt and cotton sheets. "I've been drafted," he whispered quietly.
Brad looks at him, dark eyes with hints of amber and gold running through them, unblinking. His hair still damp from the showers, the light from their room reflecting off the lighter strands. Vinny thinks it makes Brad look angelic. It takes his breath away.
He does not expect the fist Brad throws at his face. The dull thud of Brad's fist as it connects with the side of Vinny's lip shakes him to the core. Vinny does not realize he is flat on his back, hands trying desperately to grab hold of Brad's wrists as his fists blindly attack him.
"You can't leave!" Brad yells. "We said we'd leave together! You can't just leave like this! I can't … I can't …"
And then, Vinny feels Brad gasping for air above him, fists balled at his side, as he crumbles and falls apart.
Vinny lies stock still against the mattress, dumb struck. "Brad," he tries, reaching a hand out to him. Brad doesn't resist as Vinny pulls him down next to him. "Brad, Brad, Bradley …"
Brad sobs softly against Vinny's chest. "You're leaving … why didn't … why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Vinny closes his eyes, presses a hand against the back of Brad's head, lets his fingers stroke through Brad's hair. "Le cœur a ses raisons," he whispers reassuringly against Brad's ear.
"Que la raison ne connaît pas," Brad returns. "Je suis à toi."
"Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi," Vinny says earnestly. "It'll work itself out," he promises.
Brad rubs his nose against Vinny's cheek. "Promise?"
"I promise."
-x-
Brad was drafted in 1997 for the Rimouski Océanic. Vinny had kept his promise.
In 1998, Brad watched Vinny be selected first overall in the entry draft.
Looking back on it all, Brad supposes it was really a fool's errand to believe anything that happened at Athol Murray still held any weight now. He blamed the overreaction at Vinny's drafting to Rimouski Océanic on them being just kids.
And, just as kids do, they eventually grow up. Except, in his and Vinny's case, they grew up together. They watched the other flirt with girls, date, and break a few dozen hearts along the way.
So, in 2001, when Vinny told him about a pretty brunette, named Caroline, Brad brushed it off as just another girl. Another notch in Vinny's belt.
Except, there was something about the way they looked at each other that froze all proper forms of speech in Brad's throat.
And, so for the sake of everyone involved, Brad withdrew from Vinny. He told himself he was happy for Vinny if he was happy. What else could he do? Except, it was just so easy for them being together all the time to fall back into the other's arms.
-x-
"This doesn't change anything for us," Vinny says on their first road trip away in the 2001-2002 season.
Brad wants to believe him so bad it hurts. He can think of a thousand reasons to say no to Vinny's desperate caresses in the dark, but he doesn't say no. He lets Vinny take liberties with his body that night. Lets Vinny undress him, lets Vinny close his mouth over his dick, and watches as Vinny pulls back at the very last moment, urging Brad to come on his face.
"Le cœur a ses raisons," Vinny whispers, as he curls his body against Brad's.
And, Brad wants to say: "Que la raison ne connaît pas." Knows it is what Vinny wants him to say, except, as he lies in the dark, with Vinny pressed against his back, he finds the words clumsy.
He pretends he's fallen asleep as Vinny mutters "Le cœur a ses raisons" again.
-x-
Eventually, Dallas happened. They had sex one last time the night before Brad leaves.
Brad fucks himself on Vinny's cock, his hands have a death grip on Vinny's wrists. They were sweaty, and breathless. Brad listened as Vinny urged him on. Told him to take what he wanted. What he needed. Told him he would see him the next time they were in the same city.
Brad left bruises and crescent-moon shaped indentations on Vinny's wrists and arms, before he finally surrendered and came in hot, white spurts on Vinny's stomach.
-x-
They part at the entrance to Tampa's airport. They're surrounded by the burning hot asphalt, long columns of glass, and sky-reaching palm trees. Vinny can hear the roar of the planes overhead, and the sounds of car horns.
Brad has a suitcase gripped tightly in his hand, a bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes are hidden by a pair of sunglasses. Vinny reaches a hand out, fingers brushing Brad's. Brad glances at him, and Vinny wants desperately to tell him everything will be all right. Except, he knows it won't be. They were stupid enough to believe they were untouchable.
This is just … business.
Brad turns then, and walks away. Vinny watches his retreating back.
No more words were said.
-x-
They were like two sides of a coin, like magnets. The constant pull making it harder to admit maybe they were over. Brad wants to cling to every moment he has ever had with Vinny.
Anything to make it through a night. A day. Over time, the distance helped. It calmed the dreams.
He's not sure why he agreed to the week-long boat trip after Dallas was eliminated from the playoffs in 2008. Maybe he was just that masochistic. Or maybe he still held out hope that they could still shine as brightly as twin stars. Maybe, just maybe, they could still retire together.
"Je vais t'aimer toujours," Vinny said after they came back from the boat trip.
And, Brad believed him.
Neither speaks as Vinny drops him at Tampa International Airport.
-x-
The morning of their Sunday game against Boston, Brad watches Hank as he tapes his stick, checks and re-checks his pads, and equipment. He watches the slope of Hank's shoulders as he examines his stick, the earbuds in his ears blocking out the sounds of the locker room.
He can't help but think how miserable Hank looks. And, there's a feeling that shoots through Brad's system as Hank turns his head slightly, eyes landing briefly on him, before they look away.
As they leave the locker room, Brad hangs back slightly, waits until Hank passes him, and he whispers just low enough so Hank is the only one who hears: "I'm sorry."
The win against Boston makes it the third one against them during the season. It also puts them twelve-points ahead of Boston, and the leader in the Eastern Conference.
It sends a wave of jubilation through the locker room after the game. Stepan is awarded the Broadway Hat for his game winning goal.
Brad showers and dresses quickly, and slips from the locker room. He gets to his car, and finishes loading his equipment when he sees Hank walking towards him.
He half-expects Hank to stop when he sees him. Hank stops briefly, sizes Brad up with his piercing blue eyes, and hesitates.
"I'm sorry," Brad says again.
"For what?"
"For everything." Brad meets Hank's eyes. "I … I've been thinking about what you said. About people knowing when they're conquered."
"Like I said, if you have to ask me what I meant by that, you'll never know."
"So that's it then?"
"I can't … I can't watch you hurt yourself like this anymore, Brad."
"How do you expect me to be whole if you won't stop talking in riddles?"
Hank laughs. It makes Brad want to hit him. Instead, he watches as Hank steps closer, the smell of soap and cologne tickling Brad's nose. "You have to start somewhere, Brad."
He leans in, and brushes his lips against Brad's forehead. "I hear the beginning is a pretty good place to start."
Hank is gone when Brad opens his eyes again.
-x-
→ Je suis à toi. - I am yours
→ Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi - I can't live without you
→ Je vais t'aimer toujours - I will love you forever/I will always love you