(fic) Where the sun sets
Title: Where The Sun Sets
Pairing Ken Holland / Chris Osgood
Disclaimer, this is all made up, this is a work of fiction.
Rating R
I suspect I will not finish this any further; it's a little ficlet that seems hardly worth posting to HD so a sequel of sorts to Vistas
AN’s Chris' wife's name is Jenna, his daughter Mackenzie Joy
"Can you? Do it? You did once."
I don't know what Ken calls me for. To torture himself, to seek something darker than what he gets from everyone else. Even after everything that happened, Ken still calls me. I have moved on, of course, I have settled into two new teams. I loved New York. I love St Louis. I am grateful for the opportunities to grow as a player, to compete at the highest level, with a dedicated team and good management, and then I cease to pay attention to myself.
In the dark, with Jenna resting against me, sighing softly, with my Mackenzie-girl, little joy-giver, sleeping in the room next to ours, I feel Ken's hands.
"Curtis is not the same as you, I never." And I wait for Ken to go on. He doesn't.
"You didn't fuck him?
"I didn't fuck you." Ken replies. I laugh and hang up on him. I still have him, in my hands.
Sometimes with Jenna I imagine she is me, and I am him. A few minor anatomical differences. Was this what he felt? I see the babies on the teams; Jackman, and I think I could shape them as toys, as play things, as little me's.
I spend so much time in hotel rooms, I will walk in, and think, 'this place is nicer than the places we usually go to.' And then someone will jostle me from behind and I will think "ah no, that is all in the past.'
"So are you going to do it?" I am gleeful to think of him in this situation again, "put Mr Joseph on waivers? Can you do that twice?"
"My hand was forced." He explains.
"That's a press response, you know that right? I'm not in the media; tell me what are you going to do when he is healthy? Ditch Manny? That little weasel, send him to hockey hell in Grand Rapids or whatever."
"I am trying to do the best for this team."
"I'm not the Freep, tell me what you are going to do."
"Improve the defense in case Dom has lost it and dump Joseph for the first face saving offer."
"I'm impressed, even I didn't know you were that big of a bastard Kenny."
""Come and see me this summer."
It is a request, and not a request. An order that is asked not demanded.
"All right." I say.
Jenna is sleeping, peaceful serene, little Mackenzie is in a pink room, and my thoughts turn red again.
Red and white again.
Detroit colors.
Pairing Ken Holland / Chris Osgood
Disclaimer, this is all made up, this is a work of fiction.
Rating R
I suspect I will not finish this any further; it's a little ficlet that seems hardly worth posting to HD so a sequel of sorts to Vistas
AN’s Chris' wife's name is Jenna, his daughter Mackenzie Joy
"Can you? Do it? You did once."
I don't know what Ken calls me for. To torture himself, to seek something darker than what he gets from everyone else. Even after everything that happened, Ken still calls me. I have moved on, of course, I have settled into two new teams. I loved New York. I love St Louis. I am grateful for the opportunities to grow as a player, to compete at the highest level, with a dedicated team and good management, and then I cease to pay attention to myself.
In the dark, with Jenna resting against me, sighing softly, with my Mackenzie-girl, little joy-giver, sleeping in the room next to ours, I feel Ken's hands.
"Curtis is not the same as you, I never." And I wait for Ken to go on. He doesn't.
"You didn't fuck him?
"I didn't fuck you." Ken replies. I laugh and hang up on him. I still have him, in my hands.
Sometimes with Jenna I imagine she is me, and I am him. A few minor anatomical differences. Was this what he felt? I see the babies on the teams; Jackman, and I think I could shape them as toys, as play things, as little me's.
I spend so much time in hotel rooms, I will walk in, and think, 'this place is nicer than the places we usually go to.' And then someone will jostle me from behind and I will think "ah no, that is all in the past.'
"So are you going to do it?" I am gleeful to think of him in this situation again, "put Mr Joseph on waivers? Can you do that twice?"
"My hand was forced." He explains.
"That's a press response, you know that right? I'm not in the media; tell me what are you going to do when he is healthy? Ditch Manny? That little weasel, send him to hockey hell in Grand Rapids or whatever."
"I am trying to do the best for this team."
"I'm not the Freep, tell me what you are going to do."
"Improve the defense in case Dom has lost it and dump Joseph for the first face saving offer."
"I'm impressed, even I didn't know you were that big of a bastard Kenny."
""Come and see me this summer."
It is a request, and not a request. An order that is asked not demanded.
"All right." I say.
Jenna is sleeping, peaceful serene, little Mackenzie is in a pink room, and my thoughts turn red again.
Red and white again.
Detroit colors.