Home Team Advantage (2/3) (Briere/Pronger) (R)
Title: Home Team Advantage
Author: madebymarienne
Sainted Beta: kyriacarlisle
Genre: Slash, Implied Het
Pairing: Daniel Briere/Chris Pronger (Philadelphia Flyers)
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Does Chris Pronger require his own warning? Possibly. Also, professional hockey is a dangerous business, and some injuries are to be expected. Likewise with occasional drunken shenanigans and profane language.
Author's Note: This was conceived and written well before the current season (and its unfortunate events, especially as pertaining to the team's captain). Therefore, it is to be considered AU as of the 2011-12 season home-opener.
Summary: Somewhere along the way, Chris completely lost control of this conversation.
Claude and Danny manage to tiptoe around the conflict for a week before Chris decides to take matters into his hands as captain and deal with whatever the hell is going on. Because he lives with Danny, Chris takes the sensible approach and corners Claude in the parking lot after practice one day. As expected, Claude categorically denies any kind of a problem with Danny.
Chris scoffs. "Yeah, no. If I don't buy that from Caelan, who's got a better track record and looks more innocent, I'm sure as hell not going to buy it from you. So let's try this again. Thursday night, you and Danny had a fight."
"See? That, that right there. That's what we talked about. There was no fight."
The 'you're an idiot' look shifts just a bit to add a dash of confusion. "The fact that you can't play innocent for shit?"
"No, the fact that your example is one of Danny's kids, and you didn't even have to think about it."
"So this is about Danny helping me out lately."
"Oh, is that what you're calling it?" Now Claude is starting to get irritated.
It's not a question, and a part of Claude is relieved that they've finished the dancing-around-the-issue segment of this conversation. Of course, the rest of him fully understands that this isn't going anywhere better, so it's a small part.
Chris narrows his eyes, starting to get a better idea of where Claude's going with this and not liking it. "Yes, that's what I'm calling it. What did you call it Thursday night?"
"You know what? Now that we've cleared that up, I need to be at the rink for practice in half an hour."
"Carson's team practices on Tuesdays."
"Ah, right. Um, I'm sure there was something-"
Chris sighs, and crosses his arms over his chest as he attempts reasonable-and-beleaguered-dad approach. "Claude, look. Whatever it was, it's probably been blown out of proportion, eh? But it's going to fuck with team chemistry if it's not dealt with, and you're clearly not dealing with it. So now I'm asking."
Claude deflates a little at that, and really wishes Chris weren't leaning against his car. "I'm worried about him, okay? He thinks I'm being an asshole, but he doesn't see the hole he's digging himself into, and you clearly don't, either."
Claude pales after he says it, just a little, because he hadn't meant to say that much. And, fuck, now Pronger's really going to ax-murder him. Well, first he's going to ask a lot more uncomfortable questions. "Clarify. Because from where I'm standing, he's doing fine, and you're the one with the problem."
"Danny doesn't know how to say 'no,' okay?" Claude takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "I moved in because he offered, and it was great. He needed to figure things out, I got to be part of a household again, good for both of us, right? So last summer, I moved out. And I thought, hey, maybe he'll start moving on with his life now." Claude bites his lip for a minute, before spitting the last of it out. "You, camping out with your kids and your away-on-business wife, that's not moving on."
"That's what this is about? This is only temporary, Claude. I just needed a hand with the kids, and they haven't been healthy enough for long enough to move back home yet."
"Bad run, eh?"
Chris shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and shifting to commiseration mode unconsciously. "Can't go two days before one of them's sniffling again."
"Jesus, it's been nearly three months. No wonder you two have been living on DayQuil."
"It's been... unfortunate."
"You and Danny doing okay? I mean, if I'd realized..." Claude trails off, shifting uncomfortably, because Danny very clearly hadn't asked him for help, and he's only sort of part of the family anymore. And what Chris is saying jives with Danny's less-coherent explanation, but there's still something lurking in the back of Claude's mind that says this isn't quite the whole picture. To be honest, he's not sure he wants to see what’s actually going on here, though.
Somewhere along the way, Chris completely lost control of this conversation. He was expecting to be pressuring a confession of something out of Claude, and instead, he's being offered... babysitting?
The more he thinks about it, the more Claude confirms that he doesn't want the whole picture. He just can't shake the feeling that Danny doesn't quite know what he's doing, no matter how reasonable Chris sounds all of a sudden.
"We're doing fine, Claude. Tired, but fine. So whatever Danny said, he appreciates your concern, okay? He's just juggling a lot right now." Chris looks tired, now, as he reaches up and rubs a hand across his face. "Look, I'll talk to him, smooth things over, eh? We've got the holidays coming up soon, none of us need to be dealing with extra shit."
Claude nods, because this is the best out he's going to get. "Yeah, okay."
At this point they both escape, feeling relieved to be done with whatever-that-was, right up until Chris talks to Danny about Claude not meaning any harm, and Danny gets kind of pissy and leaves Chris to deal with figuring out dinner (which isn't the hardship it sounds like, since Chris is the better cook of the two of them).
Then real life intrudes again, and they lose another 3 weeks of their lives to the general struggle to balance 6 kids and professional hockey careers. Sleeping in the same bed turns into sleeping together, comfort-of-contact and all that. And every once in a while, Lilah or George or Cameron wanders in and sleeps with them because they're having a bad night. It’s just part of being dads.
Granted, the night with the thunderstorm where Lilah AND George AND Jack AND Cameron AND the dogs all show up, it might get just a touch crowded. It’s a great memory - very Sound of Music - but even a king-sized bed only has so much room. That is also, coincidentally, the night that Lilah decides maybe she'll go to Carson's room in future when she's scared/lonely, because she got kind of squished. It was fun, yes, but still. Squished. The approach doesn’t quite work, because Dad’s still best when things get really bad, but it's a matter of degrees. There’s more than one evening where Danny dozes off listening to Chris's voice go rusty-tired, talking the kids back to sleep with an on-the-spot generated bedtime story.
* * *
Scottie takes a more subtle approach when it comes to concern about Chris’s situation, watching at a distance and waiting for the inevitable fallout, especially once it’s clear that Lauren's gone and not-coming-back-soon, because Chris doesn't appear to be having adjustment problems on the scale that he should be. Every time there’s an offer of help, Chris casually brushes it off with a toned-down smirk and an assurance that he’s doing fine. Not many of them offer, truth be told, and even fewer more than once. Nobody wants to get on the captain’s bad side.
He considers calling in Kimmo or Jagr or, very briefly, Bryz, as one of the other old dudes with kids, but decides against it after considering how Chris will react if he thinks he’s being handled. So instead, he just lets it go, because there are risks not worth taking to appease a vague sense of “concerned.”
So Chris is apparently fine, if still congested and tired-looking, which is... Okay? Maybe? Scottie guesses? He can melt down in the summer; there'll be time then. He figures that Chris is enough of a professional to say something if he legitimately needs help. And so he watches, and keeps his worries to himself. Right up until Talbot makes a snarky comment about the fact that God, he hopes he never has kids, because those two have been sick forever.
And Scottie kind of cocks his head to the side and goes "Huh". Because it's not the first year the guys have been on the team, and he sure as hell doesn't remember the two of them doing the tag-team cold squad for close to a month last season. In fact, he’s sure they didn't. Chris is usually almost insultingly healthy, even when half the team is fighting chills and trying not to puke. They also didn't share long-suffering glances amongst each other and pass the DayQuil box without even asking. And they definitely didn't used to routinely pass out next to each other on the plane (even if there was an aisle separating them, it still counts, especially when Chris used to be part of the social clique rather than the sleeping crowd). In the end, he decides to tread carefully.
After all, Chris tends towards fairly outspoken and decisive, and frankly, Scottie doesn't want to kick the sleeping dragon if he seems to be more or less functional. If that dragon wakes up, it'll win the shouting match, and it might not be too discriminating about where it breathes fire.
Things more or less even out after the Old Dad's Club gets over their epic bout with recurring viruses, and Scottie just figures they had a "Life Sucks" bonding party or something.
Eventually, he does ask Claude how Danny's doing, since he knows that Claude still kicks around at the Briere place occasionally and helps out with the coaching for one of the boys. Claude's reassuringly dismissive in his answer. "Danny? He's doing fine. It helps, having another adult around to pick up the slack, even if things are kind of a disaster right now."
And Scottie gives him a what-the-hell? look, because that's not the answer he was (secretly) hoping for. "Disaster" is not a good word in association with Danny. That sounds - that sounds like Danny gone erratic and worn-to-bone again. There was quite enough of that the first time around, none of them need to see more of it.
"Well, you know, that many kids under one roof. Always something going on, yeah?"
Scottie sighs deeply. "Right, yeah, 'course. Just the usual disaster, then."
Claude sort of frowns at him curiously. "What did you think I meant?"
"Nothing, nothing, never mind."
"Okay..." Claude shrugs, then his face sort of lights up conspiratorially. "Oh, man. Promise that you won't repeat this or challenge my guy cred or anything, but Lilah trailing around after Carson is just the cutest fucking thing ever."
And - just like that! - Scottie is yet again having a slightly different conversation than the person he's talking to, so he just kind of nods like he gets it. "I'll bet."
"No, seriously, last week he talked Chris into letting him drag her around the ice after his game." Looks around quickly, checking that the coast is clear. "Man, I thought Pronger was going to have a fucking aneurism. Best. Shit. Ever. I would have filmed it, but he'd probably have broken my phone. Oh, and you should see him try to speak French at dinner. C’est fantastique!"
"I've, um, gotta go. Lunch." He's just going to go away and Not Think About It for a while. In Scottie’s experience, not thinking about things is a perfectly valid approach to confusing situations.
* * *
The Christmas break is a disaster, for reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that Lauren’s parents are visiting. She gets a week and a half off of work, and it’s the first time the kids have spent any significant time with her since she took the position in June. It’s also the first time the kids have spent more than a night in the house since moving to Danny’s in September, and Chris finds the familiar space to be bigger and emptier than he’s now used to.
The kids are wild, between the changes in routine and the added attention of having their mother in town, and Chris is perfectly happy to go running out the door for practice in the mornings. He knows that Lauren will have questions; even with the Brieres up in Quebec visiting Sylvie’s parents, they’re still going to come up in conversation. But the coming holidays serve as a solid distraction for the most part, and then there are grandparents and a tree to buy and cookies to bake.
The tree is by far the biggest headache, and one that Chris knows he should have taken care of weeks ago. Jack's ridiculously picky, eager to assert his authority over something, since Caelan and Carson have effectively stripped him of any right to boss others around anymore. George wants all the misfit trees, and refuses to speak in anything above a whisper when justifying why this deformed spruce. And Lilah, well, she keeps trying to strangle herself on her scarf while fussing to be carried.
Chris has a soft spot for Carson, especially in light of the amount of time he spends entertaining Lilah, but the kid spoils Lilah rotten. Picking her up doesn’t help, either, because both he and Lauren are too tall. In the end, Chris ends up spending half the day hauling around an almost-four-year-old who wiggles and shrieks piercingly in his ear, while explaining only somewhat intelligibly that Carson is better at this.
Dinner with the in-laws, who don’t know that they’re permanently-separated and keep dropping hints that a fourth grandchild might be just the thing now that Lilah’s going on four, doesn’t help matters in the slightest. All in all, he's ridiculously relieved when he gets to escape to go and play hockey games against against the California Contingent. Because seriously, being slashed by Corey Perry is going to be a pleasant change.
* * *
This particular road trip is BLISS for both Danny and Chris, except for the fact that they've started to get used to not sleeping alone again. Chris even tries picking up a girl one night on the road, but it just doesn't work out - there is sex, yes, but the whole time he's thinking of other things and Danny (and doesn't that end up being a sobering moment).
He ends up swinging by Teemu's place for an evening of old-times, since they've got a down day in the LA area. Normally, Chris doesn't drink much, but Teemu can tell he needs to talk and so he pulls out the good rum that someone gave him as a gift over the holidays. It seems like a great charitable act, right up until Chris starts making comments like "I feel kind of guilty, like maybe I should be returning the favor or something" about the fact that he's only given Danny a hand-job at this point.
Through the entire evening, Teemu has just been sitting there, making receptive mm-hmm noises to keep him talking. But when Chris comes up with that, even he can't help looking a little surprised.
Chris is just drunk enough to be oblivious to Teemu's reaction, and keeps trying to talk himself through it and keeps winding up at the point that maybe he should look into his options for returning the favor, since it seems to be happening kind of regularly. And he's also drunk enough to say things like "I've never done this, what if I bite him by mistake? Have you done it before? I mean, it doesn't seem like it would be bad, exactly, but he said that most hockey players do it in Juniors. Did you do it?"
Teemu's really not sure what to say at this point, so he takes the cautious route. "Um, do you want to do it? Or is it just that you feel guilty?"
"I don't know."
"Okay. Let's try this: first three words you think of when I say 'Danny.'"
"Warm. Smells good. Kids. Hockey."
"That was five words, but we'll let it go; you've been drinking. So. Does that tell you anything?"
"You're the one who gave me the rum."
"Because you're a stubborn bastard."
Chris is trying to work himself through the fact that he's apparently interested in Danny as more than just a literal bed-warmer, and it seems to be working. And because they're around each other all of the time, he's picked up this odd little catalogue of things that he wouldn't usually have noticed: this is Danny about to fall asleep; this is Danny having opinions about the letters to the editor; this is what his shampoo smells like just out of the shower; this is how he laughs at stupid television.
Teemu feels the need to point out that Chris has a fairly long list going on. He may regret it, but he feels like he has some obligation as a friend having been asked advice to at least attempt to give it. Chris’s reaction is worth whatever he decides to do the next time they meet on the ice. Never mind that "he smells really good," is not usually going to be one of the top-ten things about people to whom one is completely indifferent. "You came here; don't start making faces now."
"You're not helping. You're supposed to be helping."
"What do you want me to say? You're both Canadian, it's not like anyone there cares about that kind of thing. Outside of, you know, the locker room."
Chris makes a skeptical noise which demonstrates without a doubt his opinion of that suggestion. Teemu grits his teeth, and reminds himself that he’s the one who made the decision to get Chris drunk. "Fine. Truth? If I thought you really wanted advice, I'd give it to you. Right now, I think you need sleep."
* * *
Scottie runs into Cameron in the locker room after practice one day in the midst of coaching one of the Prongers into putting shaving cream in someone's shoes. He doesn't say anything at the time, but only because they're Talbot’s (Who, if you think about it, is the one to blame for all of his confusion, anyway. So he totally deserves it).
He herds them back over to Danny; Scottie’s still a little wary of Pronger blowing a fuse, even if the captain’s been perfectly civil and even downright jovial as the season’s gone on. The other reason for dropping the kids at Briere’s feet is because Cameron's the oldest of the three involved, and he was giving off some serious ringleader vibes.
Scottie's a little surprised when George, the quietest of the Prongers, starts chattering away at Danny with complete comfort. Especially given that George’s explanation makes every attempt at pulling Cam out of the metaphorical fire. Danny doesn’t buy it, however, and turns his attention to the elder Pronger child.
"Jack, remember what I said about doing what Cam says?"
"But he said-"
"Jack, look at me. What did I say?"
"That Cam is taking too much glee in being bigger than I am?"
"Right, and?"
Dutiful sigh. "And that I should check with you or Daddy before I do something I'm not sure about?"
Just then, there's some strangled yelping from across the room - Talbot's out of the shower getting dressed. While Danny's scrubbing at his face despairingly, Scottie makes the mistake of catching Cam's eye and can barely keep from laughing.
Chris comes wandering in a few minutes later to find Jack and George sitting in the corner poking at each other, while Cam sits dead quiet in the stall next to where Danny's getting dressed.
He looks at Danny and Cam, and then he looks at Jack and George, and then shakes his head. "I don't want to know, do I." It's not a question. Danny doesn't bother looking up from where he's tying his shoe.
"No. But ask Max, if you ever get curious."
"I'll pass." He takes another glance at his sons, who are doing just fine, and then sits down on the other side of Cam and nudges him companionably. "Mastermind, eh?” Cam shrugs, but Chris doesn’t wait for a verbal response. “You know, the trick's getting what you want without catching the ref's attention." Danny shoots him a glare at that comment.
Cam looks up at him. "That's what we were doing."
Chris leans farther down, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "One word, kiddo: Practice." He drops an around around Cam's shoulder, pointedly dripping on him despite the squiriming face he gets in return. "But if you try to get Jack and George into trouble while you're at it, I'll be the one talking to you before the awkward silence, okay?"
"Mmkay." Cam nods and kind of shrinks down a little more.
Chris releases him, standing up and reaching over to grab his clothes. "You want to ride home with me? Maybe give your dad a little time to remember the last time he may or may not have talked someone into putting shaving cream in someone's shoes?"
"I would never," Danny says. Cam's giggling; he sounds so excessively innocent that it's an obvious lie.
"You were more of a weighted sticks guy, anyway, right?"
"Okay, maybe - maybe - I pulled some pranks. Once or twice."
By this point, Jack and George have gotten bored with throwing tape balls back and forth at each other. Jack wanders over to see if his dad is pissed about the shaving cream thing, and George has been distracted by Talbot, who's gotten over his bitching fit. "Cameron, Jack, I'm going to say this once. This is important. Pranks are part of hockey. The secret is not getting caught."
Danny gives an aggravated sigh and stands up, grabbing his jacket. "If you're finished corrupting the leaders of tomorrow, I think there's lunch in my future. You want me to pick up Lilah from the Morgans?"
"Do you have the-"
"Yeah, it's still in there from the last time she insisted on tagging along for Carson's practice."
Chris shakes his head a little at that. "I just don't - whatever, it keeps them happy. Yeah, could you swing by? I have more wisdom to share with these three."
"Remind me to have a talk with the others when I get home about bad influences."
"Cam thinks I'm a wonderful influence!"
"That's the problem."
* * *
It’s no real surprise that neither Chris nor Danny gets an invite to the All Star Game. In fact, it’s something of a relief, just to have the weekend to themselves with the kids while Sean goes and represents the team along with Claude. Three of the five boys are playing in tournaments, and it’s a welcome change to be able to attend both days of competition.
It’s a sign of how relaxed he is that Chris doesn’t even complain when Danny breaks out the beer after they get the kids to bed (or, possibly to the laptop, in Caelan’s case). He just takes the bottle that Danny offers, puts his feet up, and shifts around until he’s comfortable in front of the television with his knee just the slightest bit elevated.
Danny certainly doesn’t complain when Chris pushes him down onto their bed a few hours later and tugs his sweats down, expression determined as he sets out to prove that this whole blowjob thing isn’t as hard as it’s made out to be. The bigger blessing is that Danny doesn’t say a word when Chris chokes himself because he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing. Instead, Danny’s hand is light on the back of Chris’s skull, and he lets himself be guided back in to try again.
Danny doesn’t even call him a smug bastard when he finally gets it right, just reaches down and gives Chris a helping hand of his own.
* * *
The All Star weekend serves as a turning point. Suddenly Chris is having trouble keeping his hands to himself, and Danny is no better. It’s damn near traumatic when Caelan gets a ride home early because his team meeting is canceled, and proceeds to nearly walk in on the two of them shedding clothing while sprawled out on the living room couch. That leads to a second round of the birds & the bees, conducted on the back deck while Chris putters around the kitchen and tries to pretend that he’s doing something productive.
Thankfully, it’s only awkward when Sean wanders out late one evening and there isn't quite enough time for them to separate far enough for it not be a dead-giveaway. They're both flushed, and they pulled back when Sean came in, but Danny forgot to take his hand off Chris's arm.
"Um..." Sean looks everywhere that's not at the couch. Except for how he maybe stared just a second too long, first. Chris sighs, shifts his weight on the couch a little so that he's facing the awkward rookie.
"Breathe, kid."
"I, uh. I didn't see anything, okay?"
Danny winces because, yeah, this is going wonderfully. "Sean, really, it's okay. Just, maybe you should sit down for a minute?"
Sean still very clearly doesn't know where to look, and having everyone paying attention to HIM now doesn't help. Though, some of the kids' weird comments suddenly make more sense. "Does this mean there isn't another guest room somewhere?" He's now studying the TV and pretending like he cares about, um, whatever that sport is. Competitive cycling? maybe? “Wait,” Sean finally turns his attention to the two men on the couch. “Does this mean there is another guest room? You stuck me in the basement when I could have had a window?!”
Danny looks up at the ceiling, but it offers no easy answers. “First off, beggars can't be choosers. And second, the basement has windows. Third, the guest room is a lie."
"But Claude..." Sean frowns, confused.
"Oh god, no. Jack and George are using it now"
"Danny, I hardly think this is the biggest issue right now.” Chris focuses his attention on Sean, taking in the way the boy’s arms are crossed defensively over his chest. “Do we have a problem here, Sean?"
"No. I mean, we're just going to pretend that didn't happen. Because we'll all feel better. But I really think the guest room is totally the issue here."
"If it makes you feel any better, this wasn't going on when I asked you to move in. Claude's old room was still free, back then."
Chris can't figure out why this is such a big issue. "Only because you have a strange fixation with DIY home improvement.”
Sean is watching this exchange with the growing horrified realization: Oh shit, this is in-a-relationship sniping.
"There's nothing strange about wanting my house to be presentable."
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you damn well know it. Sean, I really think you should sit down."
Sean has, by this point, forgotten that he's got any concerns about looking at them at all, and has been treating the two of them like an unusually absorbing ping-pong match.
He does sit, of course, because he's still young and basically biddable and he gets along with both of them. And you really don't argue with Chris Pronger when you're still a little afraid that you're secretly in some kind of serious trouble.
Sean would like to pretend that he's mature and collected and everything a professional hockey player should be in the press. Except then "You two were kissing, weren't you?" slips out of his mouth and he wants to die.
Chris looks a little uncomfortable, but Danny fields it like a champ because, hello, he's already been through this with Caelan, albeit under different circumstances (sort of). More at peace with things or not, Chris still isn't quite sure how he feels about other people knowing. For various definitions of other people.
"We were. Is that going to be a problem?"
Sean shakes his head frantically. "No problem, c'est bon. Je promets."
Chris rolls his eyes and slowly pushes himself to his feet, wincing as his knees take his weight.
"You two feel free to hug it out en francais. I'm getting a beer. Anyone else?"
Danny grabs the opportunity to check just one more time, now that Chris is out of the room, which makes Sean rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dad, it's fine. Um. Doyoulikeit?" The last bit slips out unintentionally, because he's young and curious, and he's not going to get another chance to ask.
Danny shrugs, feeling suddenly more self-conscious than he has through the whole exchange. "It's sex. It's not that different whether it's a man or a woman, you know?"
Sean really doesn't know, because he's only had one girlfriend where things got that far, but he nods like he understands perfectly.
"Also, you just caught us making out in the living room - does that answer your question?" Sean coughs awkwardly. Danny rolls his eyes. "Do you really think Prongs is going to do something he doesn't want to?"
Sean then proceeds to spend the next week looking at them a little funny. He’s not judgmental, but he’s curious as all hell and doesn’t want to have another round of awkward conversations with Danny.
Chris is less than pleased, and he’s more than happy to share his displeasure with Danny every time they’re out of earshot. He keeps suggesting that they just sit the kid down and talk things out, fully aware of exactly how much that wouldn’t really work, but Danny refuses to be swayed. "No, no. We’re just going to let him work through it. He's a kid, give it time. He's not upset, and he's not telling people. That's all we can really ask for at this point."
It’s a little weird having him watching them like they're a nature documentary, and he's waiting for the Stampede of the Gnus (or the Mating Habits of Ontario Natives). Chris’s patience runs out first, and eventually he just deals with the matter head-on by shoving Danny up against the fridge just to make a point. Danny has absolutely no problems with being manhandled on occasion, so the attempt at getting Sean over his curious-phase results in a bit more distraction than intended. It doesn’t last, however, because Lilah comes running in and tugs on Chris’s shirt because she wants to get into the fridge, and life goes on.
Personally, Danny’s counting this one a win, because at least this time they didn't knock anything off the counter and into the waiting maw of one of the dogs. Chris has never been so glad in his life to live in a house where the kitchen has an island
* * *
February
A patio in an upscale neighborhood near Anaheim
There’s nothing extraordinary about teammates getting together for a beer and catching up. Scott Niedermayer and Teemu have been doing it since before Scotty retired, and it just made sense to continue the practice once Scotty decided to stick around and work for the Ducks. They get together weekly, floating the day of the week as needed due to road trips and the like. They hang out and shoot the shit, mocking the poor fools who've moved to cold climates voluntarily. More recently, they’ve also started exchanging theories on the situation that is Chris-Pronger-and-Danny-Briere.
It’s an especially fruitful line of speculation, because neither of them actually know Danny very well. Debates about “What's so enticing about him anyway?" are, of course, also accompanied by the inevitable "What the hell did Chris do to convince Lauren to run off and join the marines, anyway?" speculation.
Given all the post-Edmonton chatter, there are any number of lurid scenarios they can toss around. Teemu is fairly proud of his "she couldn't take any more midnight organizing, and moving to Cleveland was less trouble in the end than throwing out all of their possessions” theory. Having roomed with Chris on the road has its advantages in the research field, it appears.
Teemu is more than happy to explain that he woke one too many nights to find Chris folding and re-folding random items because he couldn't sleep. It was more than a little unnerving (and yes, twice does count as 'too many'). That dead hotel air, and the weird smell from the air conditioning vent. The flicker of white t-shirts in the light from between the curtains, and Chris making dissatisfied noises and folding the same three things over and over and over.
Somehow, conversation meanders from there to sizes to size differences, and they clearly have too much time on their hands if they’re actually contemplating this.
"Maybe on the stairs?"
"God, why are we talking about this, again?" There’s a distinct flavor of horror to Scotty’s tone after a too-long silence in which they’d again lapsed into pondering logistics.
"You were wondering too, admit it. And this is nothing! The last time he was out here, he got drunk and asked me what it was like to give someone a blowjob." Teemu clearly loves being in a position of authority, and Scotty feels a momentary pang of sympathy for the kids who’ve had the misfortune of making it to the big show during Teemu’s farewell tour.
"Shit. Do you even know - no, nevermind. What the hell did you say?"
"I asked why he wanted to know, and he got distracted talking about Briere's eyes or something." Teemu raises his beer and takes a long sip. "I think he was trying to talk himself into it, but I have no idea where he ended up going with the whole thing."
"It's probably better this way. Otherwise, we'd actually know if they were, you know, fucking around."
"No, no, they're definitely fucking around."
"Maybe it's a midlife crisis. Next time we talk to him, he'll be wondering what driving a race car is like -"
"That, I can give advice about."
"- and not asking for sex tips. Huh. You think that's why Briere's wife left him?"
"I never really thought about it. I mean, I heard it was messy as fuck, but it sounded like run of the mill stuff. I guess it would make sense, eh?"
"God, you don't think him and Miller..."
"He followed Biron to Philly..."
"So, what, now he's working his way up the line from goalies to defensemen?" Scotty shakes his head ruefully. "Wonder if Pronger knows what he's getting into."
"Chris always plans sixteen steps ahead. The question is, does Briere know what he's in for?"
"Not a chance in hell. Think of it this way: if Briere starts giving bitchy interviews about him, we'll know they're on the rocks."
"Hm. In that case, I give it four months. Playoffs are bad at the best of times, and Philly has no reliable goalie this year."
"This year?"
"Don't be mean."
"Statement of fact, you know it. But yeah, Chris is going to blow up sometime in...oh, let's say 50 bucks on mid-April." Scotty digs his blackberry out of his back pocket as it buzzes, and starts futzing around in his email.
"Only fifty? Make it a hundred, and I say the second round, if they make it there."
"Sooner, if he goes in for surgery again."
"Wait. What exactly are we accepting as proof?"
"Bobby'd probably tell you 'pics or it didn't happen,' but that seems excessive. And traumatic."
"Wait, are we betting on them having sex or hitting a rough patch bad enough it bleeds out of their private life?"
"God, I don't even know. I need another drink."
"Because those are two very different kinds of pictures."
"We could...pump the kids for information?" Scotty gives up on the device and drops it back down onto arm of his chair, reaching up to run a hand over his face. "That's the worst idea I've ever had."
"Well, they'd certainly know if dad was sleeping on the couch." Teemu takes a long sip, finishing off his Corona and setting it on the ground. He takes a moment, considering Scotty’s assertion and the distance from where they’re sitting to the liquor fridge. "And no, the worst idea you've ever had involved tequila and that new assistant coach the year after we won the cup."
"I thought we agreed to never mention that again."
"Oops."
"You don't look very sorry. I think you need to give me your beer."
"I think you're not the boss of me anymore, and if you think you are, then you clearly don't need more beer."
"I'm not the one who brought up Chris Pronger's sex life."
"It's not like I asked him about it, and anyway, you were acting like you knew already."
“I asked you how Chris was handling things. I didn’t know you thought ‘things’ was code of ‘fucking his new housemate’! I didn’t even know he had a new housemate!”
“Details, details.”
“Get me a beer.”
* * *
A month before the playoffs, Lauren decides to take a week to visit the kids and see how things are going. She trusts that Chris isn’t going to let anyone get hit by a bus, and that he’d call her if something did happen, but there’s a part of her that misses being ‘mom’ now that she’s not mired in it 24/7.
It’s a chore, getting the kids back into the old house, even though it really shouldn’t be. It’s not as though anyone else has lived there in the interim, after all. Items are still where they left them at Christmas, everything in its place and dust-free thanks to the cleaning staff who’d been by in January to get things dealt with following the whirlwind of family visitation. It’s odd, though, because a few months is enough time for the important things to change, and the house reminds him of the way things were far more sharply than it did at Christmas.
He’d planned to stay in the guest room, give Lauren the master and just stay out of each other’s way, but by the time she rolls in at noon he knows that he can’t spend a week there. They take a few minutes over coffee to compare notes and exchange the necessary details, and then Chris squares his shoulders and sets his mug down deliberately.
"You know what, I'll just stay at Danny's while you're in town. It'll make things easier, eh?"
“Danny… Briere?” Lauren shakes her head dismissively, not really taking in the way his muscles tense or the subtleties in expression on his face. It’s been a while, and it’s amazing how one can fall out of practice without even trying. "Look, we're adults, I'm sure we can be civil about this. I don't want to put you out, and there's no reason to intrude on Danny like that."
"No, really, it's not intruding."
"What do you mean it's not intruding?"
"I think this is one of those things where it's really better if we don't talk about it."
"Chris?"
"I'm serious."
"Oh." Cue awkward staring into coffee cups.
"I'm... just going to go, okay? Give me a call when you want a break from the kids - I've got a road trip next weekend, but I'm here until then, and I'm back the following Wednesday."
"Okay."
Jack sticks his head into the kitchen at that point, blissfully unaware of the tension he’s just stepped into. "Dad, I ended up with Carson's sweatshirt again."
Chris sighs. "I'll drop it off tonight. Does this mean he has yours again? Because I could swear that we had this discussion last week about your school uniforms."
"Nah, I'm pretty sure mine's in my room. That's why I borrowed his."
"Does he know that you borrowed his?"
"Erm."
"Jack..."
"Caelan said I could use it!"
"Caelan also nearly got you suspended. We've had that discussion, too." Chris holds up a hand when Jack goes to argue further. "And if you ever, ever, expect me to say yes to that French immersion camp, you need to prove to me that you're not just going to do something every time Caelan says you can. Are we clear?"
Jack mutters something under his breath in French. Chris's eyes narrow. "Not helping your cause, buddy."
Lauren watches the entire exchange with a curious expression. "I take it he has some new friends I should know about?"
"What? Oh, no. Caelan just went through a phase where he kept trying to get Jack and George in trouble, and Jack's still trying to use it as an excuse whenever he gets caught doing something. He’s still touchy about the fact that he can’t keep up when the boys get excited."
Lauren frowns, and Jack takes one look at her face and heads right back out of the kitchen. "You know what, I'll just email Carson and let him know. He's always online, anyway, I'm sure he won't mind. I'll ask if he wants you to bring it back, okay?" Jack’s gone before either of his parents can muster up a response, which is probably for the best.
"I take it you're not the only one who's been spending time at the Briere house lately?"
Chris shrugs awkwardly and stands up, moving to the sink to dump his coffee. "The kids get along, play in the same leagues, you know how it goes."
"No, Chris, I don't know how it goes. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"What do you want me to say, Lauren?"
It’s the wrong thing to say, clearly, because he sees things slotting into place for her, and suddenly her eyes go hard in a way that he’s only seen a handful of times. "Maybe you can explain to me why all of the food in the fridge is unopened, except for the mustard and a four-pack of yogurt. And why the freezer still has exactly the same things as it did the last time I was here. And why Jack's suddenly decided that Danny Briere's kids are the logical excuse for bad behavior?"
"You know what, I should be going." Chris is not having this fight. This is not even a fight that deserves to exist, because there is no point to it. She left, and he’s making it work, and damned if he feels the need to justify how he’s making that happen.
"Try again. I may have moved to Cleveland, but I'm not stupid. You're clearly not living here, and apparently the kids aren't either. Has it occurred to you that I deserved as least a phone call before you moved the kids out of the house?"
"Nobody's moved anywhere, Lauren. They spend time at Danny's place, but this is still their home. That hasn't changed. It's not what you're thinking." He turns away, crossing his arms and studying the spice rack. He’s not going to escalate this, he’s not. "We're just both in the same boat, and we help each other out."
"And you?"
He turns back around and shrugs awkwardly, but meets her gaze. "This was our home. It hasn't felt right since you left. I'm not blaming you, things are what they are, and I've tried to just move on. There isn't time for anything else, not with the kids, but I'm not going to turn down help when it's offered."
She stares at him for a long moment, picks up her coffee cup and sets it back down again before speaking. “I think you should leave.”
“Me, too.”
| AO3 Link |
| Master Post |
LJ: | Part One | Part Two | Part Three |
Author: madebymarienne
Sainted Beta: kyriacarlisle
Genre: Slash, Implied Het
Pairing: Daniel Briere/Chris Pronger (Philadelphia Flyers)
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Does Chris Pronger require his own warning? Possibly. Also, professional hockey is a dangerous business, and some injuries are to be expected. Likewise with occasional drunken shenanigans and profane language.
Author's Note: This was conceived and written well before the current season (and its unfortunate events, especially as pertaining to the team's captain). Therefore, it is to be considered AU as of the 2011-12 season home-opener.
Summary: Somewhere along the way, Chris completely lost control of this conversation.
Claude and Danny manage to tiptoe around the conflict for a week before Chris decides to take matters into his hands as captain and deal with whatever the hell is going on. Because he lives with Danny, Chris takes the sensible approach and corners Claude in the parking lot after practice one day. As expected, Claude categorically denies any kind of a problem with Danny.
Chris scoffs. "Yeah, no. If I don't buy that from Caelan, who's got a better track record and looks more innocent, I'm sure as hell not going to buy it from you. So let's try this again. Thursday night, you and Danny had a fight."
"See? That, that right there. That's what we talked about. There was no fight."
The 'you're an idiot' look shifts just a bit to add a dash of confusion. "The fact that you can't play innocent for shit?"
"No, the fact that your example is one of Danny's kids, and you didn't even have to think about it."
"So this is about Danny helping me out lately."
"Oh, is that what you're calling it?" Now Claude is starting to get irritated.
It's not a question, and a part of Claude is relieved that they've finished the dancing-around-the-issue segment of this conversation. Of course, the rest of him fully understands that this isn't going anywhere better, so it's a small part.
Chris narrows his eyes, starting to get a better idea of where Claude's going with this and not liking it. "Yes, that's what I'm calling it. What did you call it Thursday night?"
"You know what? Now that we've cleared that up, I need to be at the rink for practice in half an hour."
"Carson's team practices on Tuesdays."
"Ah, right. Um, I'm sure there was something-"
Chris sighs, and crosses his arms over his chest as he attempts reasonable-and-beleaguered-dad approach. "Claude, look. Whatever it was, it's probably been blown out of proportion, eh? But it's going to fuck with team chemistry if it's not dealt with, and you're clearly not dealing with it. So now I'm asking."
Claude deflates a little at that, and really wishes Chris weren't leaning against his car. "I'm worried about him, okay? He thinks I'm being an asshole, but he doesn't see the hole he's digging himself into, and you clearly don't, either."
Claude pales after he says it, just a little, because he hadn't meant to say that much. And, fuck, now Pronger's really going to ax-murder him. Well, first he's going to ask a lot more uncomfortable questions. "Clarify. Because from where I'm standing, he's doing fine, and you're the one with the problem."
"Danny doesn't know how to say 'no,' okay?" Claude takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "I moved in because he offered, and it was great. He needed to figure things out, I got to be part of a household again, good for both of us, right? So last summer, I moved out. And I thought, hey, maybe he'll start moving on with his life now." Claude bites his lip for a minute, before spitting the last of it out. "You, camping out with your kids and your away-on-business wife, that's not moving on."
"That's what this is about? This is only temporary, Claude. I just needed a hand with the kids, and they haven't been healthy enough for long enough to move back home yet."
"Bad run, eh?"
Chris shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and shifting to commiseration mode unconsciously. "Can't go two days before one of them's sniffling again."
"Jesus, it's been nearly three months. No wonder you two have been living on DayQuil."
"It's been... unfortunate."
"You and Danny doing okay? I mean, if I'd realized..." Claude trails off, shifting uncomfortably, because Danny very clearly hadn't asked him for help, and he's only sort of part of the family anymore. And what Chris is saying jives with Danny's less-coherent explanation, but there's still something lurking in the back of Claude's mind that says this isn't quite the whole picture. To be honest, he's not sure he wants to see what’s actually going on here, though.
Somewhere along the way, Chris completely lost control of this conversation. He was expecting to be pressuring a confession of something out of Claude, and instead, he's being offered... babysitting?
The more he thinks about it, the more Claude confirms that he doesn't want the whole picture. He just can't shake the feeling that Danny doesn't quite know what he's doing, no matter how reasonable Chris sounds all of a sudden.
"We're doing fine, Claude. Tired, but fine. So whatever Danny said, he appreciates your concern, okay? He's just juggling a lot right now." Chris looks tired, now, as he reaches up and rubs a hand across his face. "Look, I'll talk to him, smooth things over, eh? We've got the holidays coming up soon, none of us need to be dealing with extra shit."
Claude nods, because this is the best out he's going to get. "Yeah, okay."
At this point they both escape, feeling relieved to be done with whatever-that-was, right up until Chris talks to Danny about Claude not meaning any harm, and Danny gets kind of pissy and leaves Chris to deal with figuring out dinner (which isn't the hardship it sounds like, since Chris is the better cook of the two of them).
Then real life intrudes again, and they lose another 3 weeks of their lives to the general struggle to balance 6 kids and professional hockey careers. Sleeping in the same bed turns into sleeping together, comfort-of-contact and all that. And every once in a while, Lilah or George or Cameron wanders in and sleeps with them because they're having a bad night. It’s just part of being dads.
Granted, the night with the thunderstorm where Lilah AND George AND Jack AND Cameron AND the dogs all show up, it might get just a touch crowded. It’s a great memory - very Sound of Music - but even a king-sized bed only has so much room. That is also, coincidentally, the night that Lilah decides maybe she'll go to Carson's room in future when she's scared/lonely, because she got kind of squished. It was fun, yes, but still. Squished. The approach doesn’t quite work, because Dad’s still best when things get really bad, but it's a matter of degrees. There’s more than one evening where Danny dozes off listening to Chris's voice go rusty-tired, talking the kids back to sleep with an on-the-spot generated bedtime story.
* * *
Scottie takes a more subtle approach when it comes to concern about Chris’s situation, watching at a distance and waiting for the inevitable fallout, especially once it’s clear that Lauren's gone and not-coming-back-soon, because Chris doesn't appear to be having adjustment problems on the scale that he should be. Every time there’s an offer of help, Chris casually brushes it off with a toned-down smirk and an assurance that he’s doing fine. Not many of them offer, truth be told, and even fewer more than once. Nobody wants to get on the captain’s bad side.
He considers calling in Kimmo or Jagr or, very briefly, Bryz, as one of the other old dudes with kids, but decides against it after considering how Chris will react if he thinks he’s being handled. So instead, he just lets it go, because there are risks not worth taking to appease a vague sense of “concerned.”
So Chris is apparently fine, if still congested and tired-looking, which is... Okay? Maybe? Scottie guesses? He can melt down in the summer; there'll be time then. He figures that Chris is enough of a professional to say something if he legitimately needs help. And so he watches, and keeps his worries to himself. Right up until Talbot makes a snarky comment about the fact that God, he hopes he never has kids, because those two have been sick forever.
And Scottie kind of cocks his head to the side and goes "Huh". Because it's not the first year the guys have been on the team, and he sure as hell doesn't remember the two of them doing the tag-team cold squad for close to a month last season. In fact, he’s sure they didn't. Chris is usually almost insultingly healthy, even when half the team is fighting chills and trying not to puke. They also didn't share long-suffering glances amongst each other and pass the DayQuil box without even asking. And they definitely didn't used to routinely pass out next to each other on the plane (even if there was an aisle separating them, it still counts, especially when Chris used to be part of the social clique rather than the sleeping crowd). In the end, he decides to tread carefully.
After all, Chris tends towards fairly outspoken and decisive, and frankly, Scottie doesn't want to kick the sleeping dragon if he seems to be more or less functional. If that dragon wakes up, it'll win the shouting match, and it might not be too discriminating about where it breathes fire.
Things more or less even out after the Old Dad's Club gets over their epic bout with recurring viruses, and Scottie just figures they had a "Life Sucks" bonding party or something.
Eventually, he does ask Claude how Danny's doing, since he knows that Claude still kicks around at the Briere place occasionally and helps out with the coaching for one of the boys. Claude's reassuringly dismissive in his answer. "Danny? He's doing fine. It helps, having another adult around to pick up the slack, even if things are kind of a disaster right now."
And Scottie gives him a what-the-hell? look, because that's not the answer he was (secretly) hoping for. "Disaster" is not a good word in association with Danny. That sounds - that sounds like Danny gone erratic and worn-to-bone again. There was quite enough of that the first time around, none of them need to see more of it.
"Well, you know, that many kids under one roof. Always something going on, yeah?"
Scottie sighs deeply. "Right, yeah, 'course. Just the usual disaster, then."
Claude sort of frowns at him curiously. "What did you think I meant?"
"Nothing, nothing, never mind."
"Okay..." Claude shrugs, then his face sort of lights up conspiratorially. "Oh, man. Promise that you won't repeat this or challenge my guy cred or anything, but Lilah trailing around after Carson is just the cutest fucking thing ever."
And - just like that! - Scottie is yet again having a slightly different conversation than the person he's talking to, so he just kind of nods like he gets it. "I'll bet."
"No, seriously, last week he talked Chris into letting him drag her around the ice after his game." Looks around quickly, checking that the coast is clear. "Man, I thought Pronger was going to have a fucking aneurism. Best. Shit. Ever. I would have filmed it, but he'd probably have broken my phone. Oh, and you should see him try to speak French at dinner. C’est fantastique!"
"I've, um, gotta go. Lunch." He's just going to go away and Not Think About It for a while. In Scottie’s experience, not thinking about things is a perfectly valid approach to confusing situations.
* * *
The Christmas break is a disaster, for reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that Lauren’s parents are visiting. She gets a week and a half off of work, and it’s the first time the kids have spent any significant time with her since she took the position in June. It’s also the first time the kids have spent more than a night in the house since moving to Danny’s in September, and Chris finds the familiar space to be bigger and emptier than he’s now used to.
The kids are wild, between the changes in routine and the added attention of having their mother in town, and Chris is perfectly happy to go running out the door for practice in the mornings. He knows that Lauren will have questions; even with the Brieres up in Quebec visiting Sylvie’s parents, they’re still going to come up in conversation. But the coming holidays serve as a solid distraction for the most part, and then there are grandparents and a tree to buy and cookies to bake.
The tree is by far the biggest headache, and one that Chris knows he should have taken care of weeks ago. Jack's ridiculously picky, eager to assert his authority over something, since Caelan and Carson have effectively stripped him of any right to boss others around anymore. George wants all the misfit trees, and refuses to speak in anything above a whisper when justifying why this deformed spruce. And Lilah, well, she keeps trying to strangle herself on her scarf while fussing to be carried.
Chris has a soft spot for Carson, especially in light of the amount of time he spends entertaining Lilah, but the kid spoils Lilah rotten. Picking her up doesn’t help, either, because both he and Lauren are too tall. In the end, Chris ends up spending half the day hauling around an almost-four-year-old who wiggles and shrieks piercingly in his ear, while explaining only somewhat intelligibly that Carson is better at this.
Dinner with the in-laws, who don’t know that they’re permanently-separated and keep dropping hints that a fourth grandchild might be just the thing now that Lilah’s going on four, doesn’t help matters in the slightest. All in all, he's ridiculously relieved when he gets to escape to go and play hockey games against against the California Contingent. Because seriously, being slashed by Corey Perry is going to be a pleasant change.
* * *
This particular road trip is BLISS for both Danny and Chris, except for the fact that they've started to get used to not sleeping alone again. Chris even tries picking up a girl one night on the road, but it just doesn't work out - there is sex, yes, but the whole time he's thinking of other things and Danny (and doesn't that end up being a sobering moment).
He ends up swinging by Teemu's place for an evening of old-times, since they've got a down day in the LA area. Normally, Chris doesn't drink much, but Teemu can tell he needs to talk and so he pulls out the good rum that someone gave him as a gift over the holidays. It seems like a great charitable act, right up until Chris starts making comments like "I feel kind of guilty, like maybe I should be returning the favor or something" about the fact that he's only given Danny a hand-job at this point.
Through the entire evening, Teemu has just been sitting there, making receptive mm-hmm noises to keep him talking. But when Chris comes up with that, even he can't help looking a little surprised.
Chris is just drunk enough to be oblivious to Teemu's reaction, and keeps trying to talk himself through it and keeps winding up at the point that maybe he should look into his options for returning the favor, since it seems to be happening kind of regularly. And he's also drunk enough to say things like "I've never done this, what if I bite him by mistake? Have you done it before? I mean, it doesn't seem like it would be bad, exactly, but he said that most hockey players do it in Juniors. Did you do it?"
Teemu's really not sure what to say at this point, so he takes the cautious route. "Um, do you want to do it? Or is it just that you feel guilty?"
"I don't know."
"Okay. Let's try this: first three words you think of when I say 'Danny.'"
"Warm. Smells good. Kids. Hockey."
"That was five words, but we'll let it go; you've been drinking. So. Does that tell you anything?"
"You're the one who gave me the rum."
"Because you're a stubborn bastard."
Chris is trying to work himself through the fact that he's apparently interested in Danny as more than just a literal bed-warmer, and it seems to be working. And because they're around each other all of the time, he's picked up this odd little catalogue of things that he wouldn't usually have noticed: this is Danny about to fall asleep; this is Danny having opinions about the letters to the editor; this is what his shampoo smells like just out of the shower; this is how he laughs at stupid television.
Teemu feels the need to point out that Chris has a fairly long list going on. He may regret it, but he feels like he has some obligation as a friend having been asked advice to at least attempt to give it. Chris’s reaction is worth whatever he decides to do the next time they meet on the ice. Never mind that "he smells really good," is not usually going to be one of the top-ten things about people to whom one is completely indifferent. "You came here; don't start making faces now."
"You're not helping. You're supposed to be helping."
"What do you want me to say? You're both Canadian, it's not like anyone there cares about that kind of thing. Outside of, you know, the locker room."
Chris makes a skeptical noise which demonstrates without a doubt his opinion of that suggestion. Teemu grits his teeth, and reminds himself that he’s the one who made the decision to get Chris drunk. "Fine. Truth? If I thought you really wanted advice, I'd give it to you. Right now, I think you need sleep."
* * *
Scottie runs into Cameron in the locker room after practice one day in the midst of coaching one of the Prongers into putting shaving cream in someone's shoes. He doesn't say anything at the time, but only because they're Talbot’s (Who, if you think about it, is the one to blame for all of his confusion, anyway. So he totally deserves it).
He herds them back over to Danny; Scottie’s still a little wary of Pronger blowing a fuse, even if the captain’s been perfectly civil and even downright jovial as the season’s gone on. The other reason for dropping the kids at Briere’s feet is because Cameron's the oldest of the three involved, and he was giving off some serious ringleader vibes.
Scottie's a little surprised when George, the quietest of the Prongers, starts chattering away at Danny with complete comfort. Especially given that George’s explanation makes every attempt at pulling Cam out of the metaphorical fire. Danny doesn’t buy it, however, and turns his attention to the elder Pronger child.
"Jack, remember what I said about doing what Cam says?"
"But he said-"
"Jack, look at me. What did I say?"
"That Cam is taking too much glee in being bigger than I am?"
"Right, and?"
Dutiful sigh. "And that I should check with you or Daddy before I do something I'm not sure about?"
Just then, there's some strangled yelping from across the room - Talbot's out of the shower getting dressed. While Danny's scrubbing at his face despairingly, Scottie makes the mistake of catching Cam's eye and can barely keep from laughing.
Chris comes wandering in a few minutes later to find Jack and George sitting in the corner poking at each other, while Cam sits dead quiet in the stall next to where Danny's getting dressed.
He looks at Danny and Cam, and then he looks at Jack and George, and then shakes his head. "I don't want to know, do I." It's not a question. Danny doesn't bother looking up from where he's tying his shoe.
"No. But ask Max, if you ever get curious."
"I'll pass." He takes another glance at his sons, who are doing just fine, and then sits down on the other side of Cam and nudges him companionably. "Mastermind, eh?” Cam shrugs, but Chris doesn’t wait for a verbal response. “You know, the trick's getting what you want without catching the ref's attention." Danny shoots him a glare at that comment.
Cam looks up at him. "That's what we were doing."
Chris leans farther down, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "One word, kiddo: Practice." He drops an around around Cam's shoulder, pointedly dripping on him despite the squiriming face he gets in return. "But if you try to get Jack and George into trouble while you're at it, I'll be the one talking to you before the awkward silence, okay?"
"Mmkay." Cam nods and kind of shrinks down a little more.
Chris releases him, standing up and reaching over to grab his clothes. "You want to ride home with me? Maybe give your dad a little time to remember the last time he may or may not have talked someone into putting shaving cream in someone's shoes?"
"I would never," Danny says. Cam's giggling; he sounds so excessively innocent that it's an obvious lie.
"You were more of a weighted sticks guy, anyway, right?"
"Okay, maybe - maybe - I pulled some pranks. Once or twice."
By this point, Jack and George have gotten bored with throwing tape balls back and forth at each other. Jack wanders over to see if his dad is pissed about the shaving cream thing, and George has been distracted by Talbot, who's gotten over his bitching fit. "Cameron, Jack, I'm going to say this once. This is important. Pranks are part of hockey. The secret is not getting caught."
Danny gives an aggravated sigh and stands up, grabbing his jacket. "If you're finished corrupting the leaders of tomorrow, I think there's lunch in my future. You want me to pick up Lilah from the Morgans?"
"Do you have the-"
"Yeah, it's still in there from the last time she insisted on tagging along for Carson's practice."
Chris shakes his head a little at that. "I just don't - whatever, it keeps them happy. Yeah, could you swing by? I have more wisdom to share with these three."
"Remind me to have a talk with the others when I get home about bad influences."
"Cam thinks I'm a wonderful influence!"
"That's the problem."
* * *
It’s no real surprise that neither Chris nor Danny gets an invite to the All Star Game. In fact, it’s something of a relief, just to have the weekend to themselves with the kids while Sean goes and represents the team along with Claude. Three of the five boys are playing in tournaments, and it’s a welcome change to be able to attend both days of competition.
It’s a sign of how relaxed he is that Chris doesn’t even complain when Danny breaks out the beer after they get the kids to bed (or, possibly to the laptop, in Caelan’s case). He just takes the bottle that Danny offers, puts his feet up, and shifts around until he’s comfortable in front of the television with his knee just the slightest bit elevated.
Danny certainly doesn’t complain when Chris pushes him down onto their bed a few hours later and tugs his sweats down, expression determined as he sets out to prove that this whole blowjob thing isn’t as hard as it’s made out to be. The bigger blessing is that Danny doesn’t say a word when Chris chokes himself because he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing. Instead, Danny’s hand is light on the back of Chris’s skull, and he lets himself be guided back in to try again.
Danny doesn’t even call him a smug bastard when he finally gets it right, just reaches down and gives Chris a helping hand of his own.
* * *
The All Star weekend serves as a turning point. Suddenly Chris is having trouble keeping his hands to himself, and Danny is no better. It’s damn near traumatic when Caelan gets a ride home early because his team meeting is canceled, and proceeds to nearly walk in on the two of them shedding clothing while sprawled out on the living room couch. That leads to a second round of the birds & the bees, conducted on the back deck while Chris putters around the kitchen and tries to pretend that he’s doing something productive.
Thankfully, it’s only awkward when Sean wanders out late one evening and there isn't quite enough time for them to separate far enough for it not be a dead-giveaway. They're both flushed, and they pulled back when Sean came in, but Danny forgot to take his hand off Chris's arm.
"Um..." Sean looks everywhere that's not at the couch. Except for how he maybe stared just a second too long, first. Chris sighs, shifts his weight on the couch a little so that he's facing the awkward rookie.
"Breathe, kid."
"I, uh. I didn't see anything, okay?"
Danny winces because, yeah, this is going wonderfully. "Sean, really, it's okay. Just, maybe you should sit down for a minute?"
Sean still very clearly doesn't know where to look, and having everyone paying attention to HIM now doesn't help. Though, some of the kids' weird comments suddenly make more sense. "Does this mean there isn't another guest room somewhere?" He's now studying the TV and pretending like he cares about, um, whatever that sport is. Competitive cycling? maybe? “Wait,” Sean finally turns his attention to the two men on the couch. “Does this mean there is another guest room? You stuck me in the basement when I could have had a window?!”
Danny looks up at the ceiling, but it offers no easy answers. “First off, beggars can't be choosers. And second, the basement has windows. Third, the guest room is a lie."
"But Claude..." Sean frowns, confused.
"Oh god, no. Jack and George are using it now"
"Danny, I hardly think this is the biggest issue right now.” Chris focuses his attention on Sean, taking in the way the boy’s arms are crossed defensively over his chest. “Do we have a problem here, Sean?"
"No. I mean, we're just going to pretend that didn't happen. Because we'll all feel better. But I really think the guest room is totally the issue here."
"If it makes you feel any better, this wasn't going on when I asked you to move in. Claude's old room was still free, back then."
Chris can't figure out why this is such a big issue. "Only because you have a strange fixation with DIY home improvement.”
Sean is watching this exchange with the growing horrified realization: Oh shit, this is in-a-relationship sniping.
"There's nothing strange about wanting my house to be presentable."
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you damn well know it. Sean, I really think you should sit down."
Sean has, by this point, forgotten that he's got any concerns about looking at them at all, and has been treating the two of them like an unusually absorbing ping-pong match.
He does sit, of course, because he's still young and basically biddable and he gets along with both of them. And you really don't argue with Chris Pronger when you're still a little afraid that you're secretly in some kind of serious trouble.
Sean would like to pretend that he's mature and collected and everything a professional hockey player should be in the press. Except then "You two were kissing, weren't you?" slips out of his mouth and he wants to die.
Chris looks a little uncomfortable, but Danny fields it like a champ because, hello, he's already been through this with Caelan, albeit under different circumstances (sort of). More at peace with things or not, Chris still isn't quite sure how he feels about other people knowing. For various definitions of other people.
"We were. Is that going to be a problem?"
Sean shakes his head frantically. "No problem, c'est bon. Je promets."
Chris rolls his eyes and slowly pushes himself to his feet, wincing as his knees take his weight.
"You two feel free to hug it out en francais. I'm getting a beer. Anyone else?"
Danny grabs the opportunity to check just one more time, now that Chris is out of the room, which makes Sean rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dad, it's fine. Um. Doyoulikeit?" The last bit slips out unintentionally, because he's young and curious, and he's not going to get another chance to ask.
Danny shrugs, feeling suddenly more self-conscious than he has through the whole exchange. "It's sex. It's not that different whether it's a man or a woman, you know?"
Sean really doesn't know, because he's only had one girlfriend where things got that far, but he nods like he understands perfectly.
"Also, you just caught us making out in the living room - does that answer your question?" Sean coughs awkwardly. Danny rolls his eyes. "Do you really think Prongs is going to do something he doesn't want to?"
Sean then proceeds to spend the next week looking at them a little funny. He’s not judgmental, but he’s curious as all hell and doesn’t want to have another round of awkward conversations with Danny.
Chris is less than pleased, and he’s more than happy to share his displeasure with Danny every time they’re out of earshot. He keeps suggesting that they just sit the kid down and talk things out, fully aware of exactly how much that wouldn’t really work, but Danny refuses to be swayed. "No, no. We’re just going to let him work through it. He's a kid, give it time. He's not upset, and he's not telling people. That's all we can really ask for at this point."
It’s a little weird having him watching them like they're a nature documentary, and he's waiting for the Stampede of the Gnus (or the Mating Habits of Ontario Natives). Chris’s patience runs out first, and eventually he just deals with the matter head-on by shoving Danny up against the fridge just to make a point. Danny has absolutely no problems with being manhandled on occasion, so the attempt at getting Sean over his curious-phase results in a bit more distraction than intended. It doesn’t last, however, because Lilah comes running in and tugs on Chris’s shirt because she wants to get into the fridge, and life goes on.
Personally, Danny’s counting this one a win, because at least this time they didn't knock anything off the counter and into the waiting maw of one of the dogs. Chris has never been so glad in his life to live in a house where the kitchen has an island
* * *
February
A patio in an upscale neighborhood near Anaheim
There’s nothing extraordinary about teammates getting together for a beer and catching up. Scott Niedermayer and Teemu have been doing it since before Scotty retired, and it just made sense to continue the practice once Scotty decided to stick around and work for the Ducks. They get together weekly, floating the day of the week as needed due to road trips and the like. They hang out and shoot the shit, mocking the poor fools who've moved to cold climates voluntarily. More recently, they’ve also started exchanging theories on the situation that is Chris-Pronger-and-Danny-Briere.
It’s an especially fruitful line of speculation, because neither of them actually know Danny very well. Debates about “What's so enticing about him anyway?" are, of course, also accompanied by the inevitable "What the hell did Chris do to convince Lauren to run off and join the marines, anyway?" speculation.
Given all the post-Edmonton chatter, there are any number of lurid scenarios they can toss around. Teemu is fairly proud of his "she couldn't take any more midnight organizing, and moving to Cleveland was less trouble in the end than throwing out all of their possessions” theory. Having roomed with Chris on the road has its advantages in the research field, it appears.
Teemu is more than happy to explain that he woke one too many nights to find Chris folding and re-folding random items because he couldn't sleep. It was more than a little unnerving (and yes, twice does count as 'too many'). That dead hotel air, and the weird smell from the air conditioning vent. The flicker of white t-shirts in the light from between the curtains, and Chris making dissatisfied noises and folding the same three things over and over and over.
Somehow, conversation meanders from there to sizes to size differences, and they clearly have too much time on their hands if they’re actually contemplating this.
"Maybe on the stairs?"
"God, why are we talking about this, again?" There’s a distinct flavor of horror to Scotty’s tone after a too-long silence in which they’d again lapsed into pondering logistics.
"You were wondering too, admit it. And this is nothing! The last time he was out here, he got drunk and asked me what it was like to give someone a blowjob." Teemu clearly loves being in a position of authority, and Scotty feels a momentary pang of sympathy for the kids who’ve had the misfortune of making it to the big show during Teemu’s farewell tour.
"Shit. Do you even know - no, nevermind. What the hell did you say?"
"I asked why he wanted to know, and he got distracted talking about Briere's eyes or something." Teemu raises his beer and takes a long sip. "I think he was trying to talk himself into it, but I have no idea where he ended up going with the whole thing."
"It's probably better this way. Otherwise, we'd actually know if they were, you know, fucking around."
"No, no, they're definitely fucking around."
"Maybe it's a midlife crisis. Next time we talk to him, he'll be wondering what driving a race car is like -"
"That, I can give advice about."
"- and not asking for sex tips. Huh. You think that's why Briere's wife left him?"
"I never really thought about it. I mean, I heard it was messy as fuck, but it sounded like run of the mill stuff. I guess it would make sense, eh?"
"God, you don't think him and Miller..."
"He followed Biron to Philly..."
"So, what, now he's working his way up the line from goalies to defensemen?" Scotty shakes his head ruefully. "Wonder if Pronger knows what he's getting into."
"Chris always plans sixteen steps ahead. The question is, does Briere know what he's in for?"
"Not a chance in hell. Think of it this way: if Briere starts giving bitchy interviews about him, we'll know they're on the rocks."
"Hm. In that case, I give it four months. Playoffs are bad at the best of times, and Philly has no reliable goalie this year."
"This year?"
"Don't be mean."
"Statement of fact, you know it. But yeah, Chris is going to blow up sometime in...oh, let's say 50 bucks on mid-April." Scotty digs his blackberry out of his back pocket as it buzzes, and starts futzing around in his email.
"Only fifty? Make it a hundred, and I say the second round, if they make it there."
"Sooner, if he goes in for surgery again."
"Wait. What exactly are we accepting as proof?"
"Bobby'd probably tell you 'pics or it didn't happen,' but that seems excessive. And traumatic."
"Wait, are we betting on them having sex or hitting a rough patch bad enough it bleeds out of their private life?"
"God, I don't even know. I need another drink."
"Because those are two very different kinds of pictures."
"We could...pump the kids for information?" Scotty gives up on the device and drops it back down onto arm of his chair, reaching up to run a hand over his face. "That's the worst idea I've ever had."
"Well, they'd certainly know if dad was sleeping on the couch." Teemu takes a long sip, finishing off his Corona and setting it on the ground. He takes a moment, considering Scotty’s assertion and the distance from where they’re sitting to the liquor fridge. "And no, the worst idea you've ever had involved tequila and that new assistant coach the year after we won the cup."
"I thought we agreed to never mention that again."
"Oops."
"You don't look very sorry. I think you need to give me your beer."
"I think you're not the boss of me anymore, and if you think you are, then you clearly don't need more beer."
"I'm not the one who brought up Chris Pronger's sex life."
"It's not like I asked him about it, and anyway, you were acting like you knew already."
“I asked you how Chris was handling things. I didn’t know you thought ‘things’ was code of ‘fucking his new housemate’! I didn’t even know he had a new housemate!”
“Details, details.”
“Get me a beer.”
* * *
A month before the playoffs, Lauren decides to take a week to visit the kids and see how things are going. She trusts that Chris isn’t going to let anyone get hit by a bus, and that he’d call her if something did happen, but there’s a part of her that misses being ‘mom’ now that she’s not mired in it 24/7.
It’s a chore, getting the kids back into the old house, even though it really shouldn’t be. It’s not as though anyone else has lived there in the interim, after all. Items are still where they left them at Christmas, everything in its place and dust-free thanks to the cleaning staff who’d been by in January to get things dealt with following the whirlwind of family visitation. It’s odd, though, because a few months is enough time for the important things to change, and the house reminds him of the way things were far more sharply than it did at Christmas.
He’d planned to stay in the guest room, give Lauren the master and just stay out of each other’s way, but by the time she rolls in at noon he knows that he can’t spend a week there. They take a few minutes over coffee to compare notes and exchange the necessary details, and then Chris squares his shoulders and sets his mug down deliberately.
"You know what, I'll just stay at Danny's while you're in town. It'll make things easier, eh?"
“Danny… Briere?” Lauren shakes her head dismissively, not really taking in the way his muscles tense or the subtleties in expression on his face. It’s been a while, and it’s amazing how one can fall out of practice without even trying. "Look, we're adults, I'm sure we can be civil about this. I don't want to put you out, and there's no reason to intrude on Danny like that."
"No, really, it's not intruding."
"What do you mean it's not intruding?"
"I think this is one of those things where it's really better if we don't talk about it."
"Chris?"
"I'm serious."
"Oh." Cue awkward staring into coffee cups.
"I'm... just going to go, okay? Give me a call when you want a break from the kids - I've got a road trip next weekend, but I'm here until then, and I'm back the following Wednesday."
"Okay."
Jack sticks his head into the kitchen at that point, blissfully unaware of the tension he’s just stepped into. "Dad, I ended up with Carson's sweatshirt again."
Chris sighs. "I'll drop it off tonight. Does this mean he has yours again? Because I could swear that we had this discussion last week about your school uniforms."
"Nah, I'm pretty sure mine's in my room. That's why I borrowed his."
"Does he know that you borrowed his?"
"Erm."
"Jack..."
"Caelan said I could use it!"
"Caelan also nearly got you suspended. We've had that discussion, too." Chris holds up a hand when Jack goes to argue further. "And if you ever, ever, expect me to say yes to that French immersion camp, you need to prove to me that you're not just going to do something every time Caelan says you can. Are we clear?"
Jack mutters something under his breath in French. Chris's eyes narrow. "Not helping your cause, buddy."
Lauren watches the entire exchange with a curious expression. "I take it he has some new friends I should know about?"
"What? Oh, no. Caelan just went through a phase where he kept trying to get Jack and George in trouble, and Jack's still trying to use it as an excuse whenever he gets caught doing something. He’s still touchy about the fact that he can’t keep up when the boys get excited."
Lauren frowns, and Jack takes one look at her face and heads right back out of the kitchen. "You know what, I'll just email Carson and let him know. He's always online, anyway, I'm sure he won't mind. I'll ask if he wants you to bring it back, okay?" Jack’s gone before either of his parents can muster up a response, which is probably for the best.
"I take it you're not the only one who's been spending time at the Briere house lately?"
Chris shrugs awkwardly and stands up, moving to the sink to dump his coffee. "The kids get along, play in the same leagues, you know how it goes."
"No, Chris, I don't know how it goes. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"What do you want me to say, Lauren?"
It’s the wrong thing to say, clearly, because he sees things slotting into place for her, and suddenly her eyes go hard in a way that he’s only seen a handful of times. "Maybe you can explain to me why all of the food in the fridge is unopened, except for the mustard and a four-pack of yogurt. And why the freezer still has exactly the same things as it did the last time I was here. And why Jack's suddenly decided that Danny Briere's kids are the logical excuse for bad behavior?"
"You know what, I should be going." Chris is not having this fight. This is not even a fight that deserves to exist, because there is no point to it. She left, and he’s making it work, and damned if he feels the need to justify how he’s making that happen.
"Try again. I may have moved to Cleveland, but I'm not stupid. You're clearly not living here, and apparently the kids aren't either. Has it occurred to you that I deserved as least a phone call before you moved the kids out of the house?"
"Nobody's moved anywhere, Lauren. They spend time at Danny's place, but this is still their home. That hasn't changed. It's not what you're thinking." He turns away, crossing his arms and studying the spice rack. He’s not going to escalate this, he’s not. "We're just both in the same boat, and we help each other out."
"And you?"
He turns back around and shrugs awkwardly, but meets her gaze. "This was our home. It hasn't felt right since you left. I'm not blaming you, things are what they are, and I've tried to just move on. There isn't time for anything else, not with the kids, but I'm not going to turn down help when it's offered."
She stares at him for a long moment, picks up her coffee cup and sets it back down again before speaking. “I think you should leave.”
“Me, too.”
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LJ: | Part One | Part Two | Part Three |