Big Brothers (Eric Staal/Jordan Staal)
Title: Big Brother
Author:heartandmindxx
Pairing: Eric Staal/Jordan Staal [Carolina Hurricanes/Pittsburgh Penguins]; Mentions of Sidney Crosby and Tanya Staal.
Rating: I can NOT stress this enough, HARD R.
Summary: Big brother always knows best.
Warnings: INCEST. VIOLENCE. DEATH. MENTAL ILLNESS. All sorts of things that you MAY NOT WANT TO READ, so you are WARNED and don't complain to me.
Disclaimer: This sure as hell never happened. I don't mean defamation to the Staal clan and no harm meant to anyone. Please don't sue me for anything.
AO3 Link: Here.
Big Brother.
3127 Words.
Jordan’s second word was his brother’s name.
‘Ric had come right after sod, and immediately before mama and papa. Eric liked to remind Jordan of that, often, and at the most inopportune moments. He’d mention it in passing in front of the girlfriends Jordan would bring over to the house, and later on, in front of teammates that Jordan had taken to, as well.
It was Eric’s way of saying Jordan knew me before he knew where he came from or maybe of enforcing that You don’t stand a chance of coming between us.
Growing up, Eric had never minded Jordan tagging along to the rink, hanging out in his room, sitting next to him at the dinner table. Eric liked to think that he taught Jordan everything he knew- Jordan didn’t like to think he was right, but did anyway.
When I grow up, I want to be just like Eric
Most, if not all of the kids on his teams growing up had these personal mottos, these sayings to live by, coined by their coaches or favourite NHL players, enforced by their parents and teachers every waking minute of their lives.
Always give it 110%.
You’ll always miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.
There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’.
Jordan’s had always differed slightly. It related to hockey, life, love, and all the rest, but it wasn’t exactly common amongst the rebellious children who wished to separate their family from their lives- Big brother knows best.
Jordan’s idol worship of Eric had probably started when he discovered that he wanted to be a forward- Marc’s advice just wouldn’t do, after that, and besides, sometimes he wasn’t sure if Marc and Jared were really his brothers- the hair and the freckles were just off. And he knew that Eric had enjoyed it- it’s always so satisfying to know that someone thinks you’re the best there is.
Eric, on the other hand, had always been extremely protective of all his brothers, but swore from day one that Jordan was his to take care of- unlike with Marc, he was old enough by the time Jordan was born to understand that this little person needed protection, and damned if he wasn’t going to be the one providing it. It was settled when Jared was born- Jared would be Marc’s, Jordan would be Eric’s. It made sense, it was the right order of things. Eric was the oldest- what he decided, went.
It was strange to think of how their relationship had developed in such an... abnormal way. Jordan had always thought Eric was the ideal human, the epitome of perfection- but couldn’t think back to the second, the day he and Eric realized such... affections for each other. Jordan had heard of the Oedipus Complex, the Electra Complex, or whatever Freud had wanted to call it- but he had no idea what to call this.
It may have started the day that Jordan had his first kiss- with a girl in his class, Sarah- and had come home to sit on Eric’s bed feeling confused and not at all excited.
”What’s wrong?” Eric had asked, “Jordy, are you okay?”
“I kissed a girl today,” Jordan confided, “I don’t know if I liked it.”
“Hm,” Eric had replied- no comfort at all to his distraught younger brother.
“What if I’m not doing it right?” Jordan had sputtered, “I don’t want to be... you know, bad at it.”
Eric had thought long and hard at this comment, before shrugging. “Well, I could show you.”
And that, it seemed, to be the moment it had changed- big brother, older, wiser, girl-savvy and showing Jordan the ropes to romance- but Jordan had found that maybe he liked to think about kissing Eric more than any girl in his class or in the movies.
Jordan would write his brother’s name in the margins of his notebooks at school, in the neatest handwriting he could muster, over and over- before scribbling it out, rendering it illegible before anyone saw. He knew that this was fundamentally and moralistically wrong, but for some reason, even knowing he was going to hell, or whatever, he didn’t care.
It was their little secret, and no one knew for years and years. Jordan- not fully grown into and adjusted to his huge, lanky body- had become a master of skipping the trick floorboards and not tripping over folds in the rug in the pitch dark on his way past Marc’s room to Eric’s, where he’d crawl into bed and often times, just sleep. He was sure that no one in the family knew- they were too good at hiding it, too careful, too cautious for there to be problems in the house.
They’d both had girlfriends, secret boyfriends, kids they’d meet in the field behind the house in the dark hours after dusk, but they always had time for each other- it was understood in towns like Thunder Bay that family came first. Everyone knew that the Staal brothers were a tight-knit group, everyone knew that Jordan and Eric loved each other above all else- they didn’t hide that, and didn’t need to.
Eric’s passion was frightening, sometimes, but Jordan thrived on it, was drawn to it like a moth to flame. Eric would do anything for him, and it was a good feeling. To know that someone always had your back.
To know that someone loved you more than anything.
It was painfully obvious, to Jordan, and to everyone else, that Eric would gladly kill for him if it came down to it. In fact, it was almost like he had to convince Eric that No, she doesn’t matter and it’s not worth it when Julia Meyers from Eric’s 12th grade math class had seen them kissing behind the boarded-up 7-11 near the school. She probably didn’t get a good look and She won’t tell anyone, she likes you too much seeming like good enough reasons for Jordan, but the fire in Eric’s eyes said differently- though Jordan knew that Eric would never do anything if he didn’t say it was ok. It was funny how that went; Jordan, the younger brother, but with so much control over Eric that he knew in his head that it was impossible for no one to have caught on.
When Julia’s cat turned up dead on her front porch, she said nothing and Jordan didn’t ask questions.
By the time Jordan was drafted he’d been through two of them already and knew what to expect- but he felt his heart swell dramatically when his name was called second. Better than first.
Same as Eric.
But things had changed in the years passed- Eric had grown cold, his lust for life diminished. He’d won a Stanley Cup, the Holy Grail, the ultimate goal for the entire family, but he’d become emotionally distant. Even his relationship with Jordan was strained- he could feel that Eric’s adoration for him hadn’t dulled, but the physical distance and NHL stress was putting pressure on their situation.
Jordan made the Pittsburgh Penguins out of his first training camp- and made new friends, too. The NHL brought him new opportunities and experiences, but above all, the NHL brought him Sidney Crosby.
Sid was unlike anyone he’d ever met- he lived his life with the utmost passion for everything, led fearlessly, and was wise beyond his years- or, when he thought about it, maybe he was a lot like one person he knew, or at least thought he did.
By the end of the first round of the playoffs that year, he’d fallen hard for Sidney Crosby. And oddly enough, his first thoughts upon his realization were acceptable methods of telling the object of his affections, but instead were to wonder how in hell he was going to tell Eric.
He couldn’t think of anything. He didn’t know if there was anything he could say to Eric that would make him understand. He knew his place- he belonged to Eric. So he didn’t, he didn’t tell Eric anything. For the first time in his life, he had a secret.
That summer, Jordan saw firsthand how aloof Eric had become- his bachelor party had been full of debauchery but it was almost as if he watched Eric through a pane of glass, a screen. They were supposed to be celebrating, but Eric had seemed angry for the whole night, uncomfortable with his situation. He drank too much, was violent- Jordan was worried, to say the least. It was when Eric smashed a beer bottle against the side of the pool table to brandish against one of the guests that Jordan decided he’d seen enough.
“Let’s go upstairs, Eric.”
Eric had taken one look at him and nodded. He’d still do anything that Jordan wanted.
They’d lain together in the dark master bedroom of the condo, Jordan’s finger tracing lazy patterns into the smooth skin of Eric’s pale shoulders.
“Just like old times, eh, ‘Ric?” Jordan said quietly, the noise of the party they left behind still pulsating through the floor beneath them.
“I don’t want to marry her, Jordy,” Eric had replied, and they said nothing more until the police came.
Eric was married the next week, and Jordan stood next to him, a tight-lipped smile painted onto his face. He knew that what they had been doing for all those years had been wrong, but this just felt wrong. But, Eric had caught his eyes briefly during his vows, and the weight on his heart subsided a little bit.
Eric and Jordan met four times a season for the next two years, and each time was more rushed, more strained than the last. They’d say hello before the game, then would meet in a hotel room that night and pass out together, exhausted and sore. Someone always woke up alone, the other having snuck out early in the morning to catch a bus, a plane. They rarely spoke, but there was some comfort for Jordan knowing that Eric was next to him, like he was safe.
Years pass and Eric watches from the stands as Jordan wins the Stanley Cup- about the same age Eric was when he won it. Tanya is pregnant and Eric is a borderline alcoholic, becoming more and more dependent on the burn of whiskey sliding down his throat and coating his stomach. By this point, Jordan is not Eric’s lover, by any stretch of the imagination- but still a possession, his crown jewel, the prize of his empire. More than just a brother, but maybe, just a little less than a person.
Eric walks through the belly of Mellon Arena after the game, looking for Jordan, wanting to congratulate him in a way that a text message just isn’t able to convey. The walls shake with the reverberated noise from the celebration of the fans, and a part of him is happy. He is about to turn a corner when he comes to an abrupt stop- movement and a hushed voice, so familiar, he’d know it anywhere.
“You did it, Sid,” he hears Jordan say, overjoyed.
“Jordy, no, we did it.”
He tenses at the name, Jordy, his name for his brother, it always has been. He rounds the corner to see his brother and Sidney Crosby locked in a fiery embrace. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow- he’s drunk off eight dollar stadium beer already, and he feels his collar burning against his shirt.
Jordan must feel him watching because his eyes shoot open and he tears away from Sid, jaw hanging open.
“Eric- I- hey,” he stutters, shaking under the scrutiny of his brother’s stare. Eric turns back the way he came and Jordan look from the empty space where his brother had just stood and back to Sid before squeezing Sid’s hand briefly. “I- I should go after him, just wait.”
He runs down the hallway, corner after corner, mind racing of how to tell Eric exactly what he’d wanted to years before. Suddenly, he’s pulled harshly into a storage room and thrown against the wall, his breath catching in his chest before Eric’s lips are covering his own possessively. His long fingers curl around Jordan’s wrists and clench, pushing hard against the bones.
“How long,” Eric growls, and Jordan can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Eric, I-”
“How. Long?” Eric says, cutting him off, his fingers tightening for emphasis. “Years?”
“Eric... yes. Years. Since my rookie season.” Jordan says quietly, Eric’s face so close to his that their noses bump when he talks.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eric’s grip now rivals a vice.
Jordan bites his lip. “I didn’t know how.”
Eric obviously isn’t pleased with this answer and squeezes tighter, as tight as Jordan can possibly take before he gasps out, “Please, Eric, you’re hurting me.”
Eric’s face softens immediately, as does his grip on Jordan’s wrists as he brings each to his mouth to place a gentle kiss to the abused skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “congratulations, Jordy.”
Jordan looks into Eric’s eyes, and doesn’t see the same Eric that he’s always known. There’s no life, no joy in them, nothing that he used to see in his brother’s eyes, so similar to his own.
“I... I should get back.” Jordan says, moving towards the door. But he’s stopped when Eric’s hand catches onto his wrist again.
“Say you love me,” Eric demands in a soft voice.
“What? Eric, of course I do.” Jordan replies, turning back to face him.
“Say it,” Eric demands again, voice dropping to a hiss.
“Eric, I- I love you,” Jordan says, one hand finding its way to Eric’s hip, sliding up under the fabric of his shirt to rest on the warm skin, “I love you. Of course I do.”
“Good,” Eric says, his voice barely audible. Jordan leans forward to kiss his cheek, his lips lingering only slightly, before he turns and exits the storage room, heading back towards the cheers of the dressing room.
Jordan comes home from the ongoing celebration late that night, closing his front door clumsily as he stumbles in, drunk off champagne and glory. He turns and lets out a yelp as he comes face to face with Eric, jaw set and eyes glassy.
“Eric- hey, I wasn’t... expecting you,” Jordan says hesitantly, trying to clear his head. “Where’s Mom and Dad? And Marc, Jared... and Tanya?”
“Hotel,” Eric states, simply.
Jordan nods and shrugs, “Okay, then... I’m going to, uh, go to bed... ‘Cause, I’m tired, and...” but as he tries to move past Eric, his hand comes up to push Jordan back, sending him staggering back against his front door. From Eric’s breath he can tell that he’s not the only one who’s been drinking.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Jordan. We don’t keep things from each other,” Eric says slowly, meaningfully. “We don’t have secrets.”
“I didn’t wanna... I don’t get why you’re so mad,” Jordan says, pointing sloppily, “you got married.”
Eric slams Jordan against the door, knocking a candle holder off the side ledge to the ground. “You don’t get it, Jordy, we’re supposed to be together!”
“We can’t Eric, it’s not right!” Jordan protests, not doing much to push Eric away. “We can’t just change the rules!”
“There aren’t any fucking rules, not with us! It’s right, you know it’s right!” Eric shouts, crushing his lips against Jordan’s. “Don’t tell me it isn’t right!”
Jordan’s knees buckle, sending them both to the ground, wrapped up in each other. “Eric, we can’t. You know we can’t. You got a wife, you’re gonna be a dad, we can’t just be together, it doesn’t work like that.”
“I don’t know anything better than I know this,” Eric says, running his fingers down Jordan’s cheek. “I don’t love anything better than I love you.”
“Eric...” Jordan says weakly, his eyes falling shut. “We just can’t.”
Eric’s voice rises, “Jordy, stop saying that! We can do whatever we want. I want this.” He takes Jordan’s chin between his fingers and tilts his head up to look at him. “I’d do anything for you. I’d kill for you. I’d kill anyone to be with you forever.”
“You’re gonna have to kill the whole world, Eric,” Jordan says. “You just can’t. You’re married, you got a beautiful wife, a beautiful kid on the way... you’re gonna have a beautiful family.”
“I got a beautiful family right here,” Eric says softly, brushing away Jordan’s hair. “I’m gonna go do something.”
“Eric, what are you doing?” Jordan asks, reaching for Eric as he stands up. “Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna do something, just one thing, and then I’ll be back. Wait for me, and I’ll be back.” Eric repeats, opening the door to squish Jordan between it and the wall for a second, and then he’s gone.
And Jordan doesn’t have a chance to stop him.
Jordan watches the clock impatiently. Every second that goes by seems like an eternity, and he knows something’s wrong. He knows Eric’s lost his damn mind. He knows what Eric is capable of. He knows that there’s nothing anyone can do to stop Eric from reaching his goal, not this time.
He’s always been driven.
He loves his brother, he wants to be with him, he does- but what lengths would Eric go to? He knows the answer. He knows exactly what Eric would do.
Which is why Jordan isn’t surprised when he answers the door to Eric two hours later and there’s blood dripping from his hands and soaked into his t-shirt, dark, dark red, almost black, drying at the edges.
Eric steps into the house and clutches at Jordan's bare chest, skin on skin, red hand prints sliding over his ribs reminiscent of the days they'd play cowboys and indians in the field, before any of this mattered. Jordan holds Eric close like a child and shuts the door to the outside, sealing them into solitude, for now, just for right now.
"It's over," Eric whispers next to Jordan's earlobe, lips grazing the soft, peach-fuzzed skin. "It's all over. We'll be okay, now."
And Jordan’s scared, scared out of his fucking mind, because he knows whatever Eric’s done, they’ll find him eventually, it's going to lead straight back to them- but for now, this time is theirs. Their time to believe that everything really is going to be okay. They’ll spend these last few hours together, inside of Jordan’s house where they can believe that Eric is right, because Eric’s always been right. He believes, for now, because he knows Eric means well. He believes because Eric is his big brother.
And big brother always knows best.
---fin---
Author:heartandmindxx
Pairing: Eric Staal/Jordan Staal [Carolina Hurricanes/Pittsburgh Penguins]; Mentions of Sidney Crosby and Tanya Staal.
Rating: I can NOT stress this enough, HARD R.
Summary: Big brother always knows best.
Warnings: INCEST. VIOLENCE. DEATH. MENTAL ILLNESS. All sorts of things that you MAY NOT WANT TO READ, so you are WARNED and don't complain to me.
Disclaimer: This sure as hell never happened. I don't mean defamation to the Staal clan and no harm meant to anyone. Please don't sue me for anything.
AO3 Link: Here.
Big Brother.
3127 Words.
Jordan’s second word was his brother’s name.
‘Ric had come right after sod, and immediately before mama and papa. Eric liked to remind Jordan of that, often, and at the most inopportune moments. He’d mention it in passing in front of the girlfriends Jordan would bring over to the house, and later on, in front of teammates that Jordan had taken to, as well.
It was Eric’s way of saying Jordan knew me before he knew where he came from or maybe of enforcing that You don’t stand a chance of coming between us.
Growing up, Eric had never minded Jordan tagging along to the rink, hanging out in his room, sitting next to him at the dinner table. Eric liked to think that he taught Jordan everything he knew- Jordan didn’t like to think he was right, but did anyway.
When I grow up, I want to be just like Eric
Most, if not all of the kids on his teams growing up had these personal mottos, these sayings to live by, coined by their coaches or favourite NHL players, enforced by their parents and teachers every waking minute of their lives.
Always give it 110%.
You’ll always miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.
There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’.
Jordan’s had always differed slightly. It related to hockey, life, love, and all the rest, but it wasn’t exactly common amongst the rebellious children who wished to separate their family from their lives- Big brother knows best.
Jordan’s idol worship of Eric had probably started when he discovered that he wanted to be a forward- Marc’s advice just wouldn’t do, after that, and besides, sometimes he wasn’t sure if Marc and Jared were really his brothers- the hair and the freckles were just off. And he knew that Eric had enjoyed it- it’s always so satisfying to know that someone thinks you’re the best there is.
Eric, on the other hand, had always been extremely protective of all his brothers, but swore from day one that Jordan was his to take care of- unlike with Marc, he was old enough by the time Jordan was born to understand that this little person needed protection, and damned if he wasn’t going to be the one providing it. It was settled when Jared was born- Jared would be Marc’s, Jordan would be Eric’s. It made sense, it was the right order of things. Eric was the oldest- what he decided, went.
It was strange to think of how their relationship had developed in such an... abnormal way. Jordan had always thought Eric was the ideal human, the epitome of perfection- but couldn’t think back to the second, the day he and Eric realized such... affections for each other. Jordan had heard of the Oedipus Complex, the Electra Complex, or whatever Freud had wanted to call it- but he had no idea what to call this.
It may have started the day that Jordan had his first kiss- with a girl in his class, Sarah- and had come home to sit on Eric’s bed feeling confused and not at all excited.
”What’s wrong?” Eric had asked, “Jordy, are you okay?”
“I kissed a girl today,” Jordan confided, “I don’t know if I liked it.”
“Hm,” Eric had replied- no comfort at all to his distraught younger brother.
“What if I’m not doing it right?” Jordan had sputtered, “I don’t want to be... you know, bad at it.”
Eric had thought long and hard at this comment, before shrugging. “Well, I could show you.”
And that, it seemed, to be the moment it had changed- big brother, older, wiser, girl-savvy and showing Jordan the ropes to romance- but Jordan had found that maybe he liked to think about kissing Eric more than any girl in his class or in the movies.
Jordan would write his brother’s name in the margins of his notebooks at school, in the neatest handwriting he could muster, over and over- before scribbling it out, rendering it illegible before anyone saw. He knew that this was fundamentally and moralistically wrong, but for some reason, even knowing he was going to hell, or whatever, he didn’t care.
It was their little secret, and no one knew for years and years. Jordan- not fully grown into and adjusted to his huge, lanky body- had become a master of skipping the trick floorboards and not tripping over folds in the rug in the pitch dark on his way past Marc’s room to Eric’s, where he’d crawl into bed and often times, just sleep. He was sure that no one in the family knew- they were too good at hiding it, too careful, too cautious for there to be problems in the house.
They’d both had girlfriends, secret boyfriends, kids they’d meet in the field behind the house in the dark hours after dusk, but they always had time for each other- it was understood in towns like Thunder Bay that family came first. Everyone knew that the Staal brothers were a tight-knit group, everyone knew that Jordan and Eric loved each other above all else- they didn’t hide that, and didn’t need to.
Eric’s passion was frightening, sometimes, but Jordan thrived on it, was drawn to it like a moth to flame. Eric would do anything for him, and it was a good feeling. To know that someone always had your back.
To know that someone loved you more than anything.
It was painfully obvious, to Jordan, and to everyone else, that Eric would gladly kill for him if it came down to it. In fact, it was almost like he had to convince Eric that No, she doesn’t matter and it’s not worth it when Julia Meyers from Eric’s 12th grade math class had seen them kissing behind the boarded-up 7-11 near the school. She probably didn’t get a good look and She won’t tell anyone, she likes you too much seeming like good enough reasons for Jordan, but the fire in Eric’s eyes said differently- though Jordan knew that Eric would never do anything if he didn’t say it was ok. It was funny how that went; Jordan, the younger brother, but with so much control over Eric that he knew in his head that it was impossible for no one to have caught on.
When Julia’s cat turned up dead on her front porch, she said nothing and Jordan didn’t ask questions.
By the time Jordan was drafted he’d been through two of them already and knew what to expect- but he felt his heart swell dramatically when his name was called second. Better than first.
Same as Eric.
But things had changed in the years passed- Eric had grown cold, his lust for life diminished. He’d won a Stanley Cup, the Holy Grail, the ultimate goal for the entire family, but he’d become emotionally distant. Even his relationship with Jordan was strained- he could feel that Eric’s adoration for him hadn’t dulled, but the physical distance and NHL stress was putting pressure on their situation.
Jordan made the Pittsburgh Penguins out of his first training camp- and made new friends, too. The NHL brought him new opportunities and experiences, but above all, the NHL brought him Sidney Crosby.
Sid was unlike anyone he’d ever met- he lived his life with the utmost passion for everything, led fearlessly, and was wise beyond his years- or, when he thought about it, maybe he was a lot like one person he knew, or at least thought he did.
By the end of the first round of the playoffs that year, he’d fallen hard for Sidney Crosby. And oddly enough, his first thoughts upon his realization were acceptable methods of telling the object of his affections, but instead were to wonder how in hell he was going to tell Eric.
He couldn’t think of anything. He didn’t know if there was anything he could say to Eric that would make him understand. He knew his place- he belonged to Eric. So he didn’t, he didn’t tell Eric anything. For the first time in his life, he had a secret.
That summer, Jordan saw firsthand how aloof Eric had become- his bachelor party had been full of debauchery but it was almost as if he watched Eric through a pane of glass, a screen. They were supposed to be celebrating, but Eric had seemed angry for the whole night, uncomfortable with his situation. He drank too much, was violent- Jordan was worried, to say the least. It was when Eric smashed a beer bottle against the side of the pool table to brandish against one of the guests that Jordan decided he’d seen enough.
“Let’s go upstairs, Eric.”
Eric had taken one look at him and nodded. He’d still do anything that Jordan wanted.
They’d lain together in the dark master bedroom of the condo, Jordan’s finger tracing lazy patterns into the smooth skin of Eric’s pale shoulders.
“Just like old times, eh, ‘Ric?” Jordan said quietly, the noise of the party they left behind still pulsating through the floor beneath them.
“I don’t want to marry her, Jordy,” Eric had replied, and they said nothing more until the police came.
Eric was married the next week, and Jordan stood next to him, a tight-lipped smile painted onto his face. He knew that what they had been doing for all those years had been wrong, but this just felt wrong. But, Eric had caught his eyes briefly during his vows, and the weight on his heart subsided a little bit.
Eric and Jordan met four times a season for the next two years, and each time was more rushed, more strained than the last. They’d say hello before the game, then would meet in a hotel room that night and pass out together, exhausted and sore. Someone always woke up alone, the other having snuck out early in the morning to catch a bus, a plane. They rarely spoke, but there was some comfort for Jordan knowing that Eric was next to him, like he was safe.
Years pass and Eric watches from the stands as Jordan wins the Stanley Cup- about the same age Eric was when he won it. Tanya is pregnant and Eric is a borderline alcoholic, becoming more and more dependent on the burn of whiskey sliding down his throat and coating his stomach. By this point, Jordan is not Eric’s lover, by any stretch of the imagination- but still a possession, his crown jewel, the prize of his empire. More than just a brother, but maybe, just a little less than a person.
Eric walks through the belly of Mellon Arena after the game, looking for Jordan, wanting to congratulate him in a way that a text message just isn’t able to convey. The walls shake with the reverberated noise from the celebration of the fans, and a part of him is happy. He is about to turn a corner when he comes to an abrupt stop- movement and a hushed voice, so familiar, he’d know it anywhere.
“You did it, Sid,” he hears Jordan say, overjoyed.
“Jordy, no, we did it.”
He tenses at the name, Jordy, his name for his brother, it always has been. He rounds the corner to see his brother and Sidney Crosby locked in a fiery embrace. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow- he’s drunk off eight dollar stadium beer already, and he feels his collar burning against his shirt.
Jordan must feel him watching because his eyes shoot open and he tears away from Sid, jaw hanging open.
“Eric- I- hey,” he stutters, shaking under the scrutiny of his brother’s stare. Eric turns back the way he came and Jordan look from the empty space where his brother had just stood and back to Sid before squeezing Sid’s hand briefly. “I- I should go after him, just wait.”
He runs down the hallway, corner after corner, mind racing of how to tell Eric exactly what he’d wanted to years before. Suddenly, he’s pulled harshly into a storage room and thrown against the wall, his breath catching in his chest before Eric’s lips are covering his own possessively. His long fingers curl around Jordan’s wrists and clench, pushing hard against the bones.
“How long,” Eric growls, and Jordan can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Eric, I-”
“How. Long?” Eric says, cutting him off, his fingers tightening for emphasis. “Years?”
“Eric... yes. Years. Since my rookie season.” Jordan says quietly, Eric’s face so close to his that their noses bump when he talks.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eric’s grip now rivals a vice.
Jordan bites his lip. “I didn’t know how.”
Eric obviously isn’t pleased with this answer and squeezes tighter, as tight as Jordan can possibly take before he gasps out, “Please, Eric, you’re hurting me.”
Eric’s face softens immediately, as does his grip on Jordan’s wrists as he brings each to his mouth to place a gentle kiss to the abused skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “congratulations, Jordy.”
Jordan looks into Eric’s eyes, and doesn’t see the same Eric that he’s always known. There’s no life, no joy in them, nothing that he used to see in his brother’s eyes, so similar to his own.
“I... I should get back.” Jordan says, moving towards the door. But he’s stopped when Eric’s hand catches onto his wrist again.
“Say you love me,” Eric demands in a soft voice.
“What? Eric, of course I do.” Jordan replies, turning back to face him.
“Say it,” Eric demands again, voice dropping to a hiss.
“Eric, I- I love you,” Jordan says, one hand finding its way to Eric’s hip, sliding up under the fabric of his shirt to rest on the warm skin, “I love you. Of course I do.”
“Good,” Eric says, his voice barely audible. Jordan leans forward to kiss his cheek, his lips lingering only slightly, before he turns and exits the storage room, heading back towards the cheers of the dressing room.
Jordan comes home from the ongoing celebration late that night, closing his front door clumsily as he stumbles in, drunk off champagne and glory. He turns and lets out a yelp as he comes face to face with Eric, jaw set and eyes glassy.
“Eric- hey, I wasn’t... expecting you,” Jordan says hesitantly, trying to clear his head. “Where’s Mom and Dad? And Marc, Jared... and Tanya?”
“Hotel,” Eric states, simply.
Jordan nods and shrugs, “Okay, then... I’m going to, uh, go to bed... ‘Cause, I’m tired, and...” but as he tries to move past Eric, his hand comes up to push Jordan back, sending him staggering back against his front door. From Eric’s breath he can tell that he’s not the only one who’s been drinking.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Jordan. We don’t keep things from each other,” Eric says slowly, meaningfully. “We don’t have secrets.”
“I didn’t wanna... I don’t get why you’re so mad,” Jordan says, pointing sloppily, “you got married.”
Eric slams Jordan against the door, knocking a candle holder off the side ledge to the ground. “You don’t get it, Jordy, we’re supposed to be together!”
“We can’t Eric, it’s not right!” Jordan protests, not doing much to push Eric away. “We can’t just change the rules!”
“There aren’t any fucking rules, not with us! It’s right, you know it’s right!” Eric shouts, crushing his lips against Jordan’s. “Don’t tell me it isn’t right!”
Jordan’s knees buckle, sending them both to the ground, wrapped up in each other. “Eric, we can’t. You know we can’t. You got a wife, you’re gonna be a dad, we can’t just be together, it doesn’t work like that.”
“I don’t know anything better than I know this,” Eric says, running his fingers down Jordan’s cheek. “I don’t love anything better than I love you.”
“Eric...” Jordan says weakly, his eyes falling shut. “We just can’t.”
Eric’s voice rises, “Jordy, stop saying that! We can do whatever we want. I want this.” He takes Jordan’s chin between his fingers and tilts his head up to look at him. “I’d do anything for you. I’d kill for you. I’d kill anyone to be with you forever.”
“You’re gonna have to kill the whole world, Eric,” Jordan says. “You just can’t. You’re married, you got a beautiful wife, a beautiful kid on the way... you’re gonna have a beautiful family.”
“I got a beautiful family right here,” Eric says softly, brushing away Jordan’s hair. “I’m gonna go do something.”
“Eric, what are you doing?” Jordan asks, reaching for Eric as he stands up. “Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna do something, just one thing, and then I’ll be back. Wait for me, and I’ll be back.” Eric repeats, opening the door to squish Jordan between it and the wall for a second, and then he’s gone.
And Jordan doesn’t have a chance to stop him.
Jordan watches the clock impatiently. Every second that goes by seems like an eternity, and he knows something’s wrong. He knows Eric’s lost his damn mind. He knows what Eric is capable of. He knows that there’s nothing anyone can do to stop Eric from reaching his goal, not this time.
He’s always been driven.
He loves his brother, he wants to be with him, he does- but what lengths would Eric go to? He knows the answer. He knows exactly what Eric would do.
Which is why Jordan isn’t surprised when he answers the door to Eric two hours later and there’s blood dripping from his hands and soaked into his t-shirt, dark, dark red, almost black, drying at the edges.
Eric steps into the house and clutches at Jordan's bare chest, skin on skin, red hand prints sliding over his ribs reminiscent of the days they'd play cowboys and indians in the field, before any of this mattered. Jordan holds Eric close like a child and shuts the door to the outside, sealing them into solitude, for now, just for right now.
"It's over," Eric whispers next to Jordan's earlobe, lips grazing the soft, peach-fuzzed skin. "It's all over. We'll be okay, now."
And Jordan’s scared, scared out of his fucking mind, because he knows whatever Eric’s done, they’ll find him eventually, it's going to lead straight back to them- but for now, this time is theirs. Their time to believe that everything really is going to be okay. They’ll spend these last few hours together, inside of Jordan’s house where they can believe that Eric is right, because Eric’s always been right. He believes, for now, because he knows Eric means well. He believes because Eric is his big brother.
And big brother always knows best.
---fin---