Handbook for the Sellout XVI
Title: Handbook for the Sellout
Summary: It's not a story. It's life. Grade 12 at Eden Hall brings about new beginings and ends. Connie leaves the team, the Bash Brothers struggle while Adam and Charlie unlock their own secrets. Maybe Ducks don't always fly together. [slash] [het] [complete]
Author's Note: [Jessi]: Longer chapter for the masses, and an update in the same week! *gasp* Je wrote the locker room scene, Ki wrote the rest. All hockey equipment/misc information comes from her. Back to the homework slums for meee. [Kaila] I have nothing to say really…
Fandom: Mighty Ducks
Chapter: 16
Disclaimer: Ducks bow to mouse… pirates bow to mouse, Lions bow to mouse, pretty much everything bows to the mouse. It’s the circle of life.
~*~
Casey swan into consciousness. The inside of her eyelids red with the light from outside. The bed was too comfortable to be her own, and there was strange warmth to her left. She smiled, remembering back when Charlie used to climb into bed with her when he was younger. He blamed it on nightmares, but that wasn't always true.
Cracking open her blue eyes, she noted that neither she nor Mark were wearing clothes. Well that was a productive first date. Charlie would kill me, or spew at knowing I slept with him. She frowned remembering their fight. She couldn't believe that Charlie would smoke pot, or do drugs, but then, she had done some stupid things as a teenager. There was no way in hell that she would ever want to return to that time, except maybe being in the comfort of her parent's house, and not worrying about paying the bills on time. Her son was getting a good, free, education, and she was relatively happy. I think I'll bake him some cookies today and return all of his clothes. She glanced over at Mark again as his eyes fluttered, lifting from the dream world.
Leaning over him, she kissed his shoulder, "Morning handsome."
~*~
Adam dropped his bag to the concrete floor, barely hearing the clatter of his stick over the din in the echo-y room. He was perplexed. This was two practices in less than a week that Charlie had missed. His roommate hadn't bothered to show up during the night either. Spazway lived for hockey. At this rate, he was bound to get kicked off the team in his last year. Unzipping his bag, Adam collapsed onto the bench and began to pull equipment out.
Brown eyes skimmed the room, his comrades in various states of dress. Guy was simply staring at his skates, not attempting to don his gear, while Averman was in shoulder pads and boxers, animatedly telling Russ a story about some chick in his geography class.
"Hey Mendoza! What's our History homework for tomorrow?"
"Your mom!" the Floridian laughed at Dwayne's face eliciting a jeer from Goldberg.
On the other side of the room, Adam grimaced; Fulton and Portman had their heads together and were talking quietly. His stomach twisted. G-d why couldn't' anyone see that they were fucking each other? Fulton was practically in Portman's lap
Turning away he picked up one of his shin guards and pulled it in place. Hunting for his other, he felt a snap on his back. Averman laughed holding up the rolled towel, along with Kenny and Goldberg.
"You shoulda seen the look on your face."
"Priceless." Goldberg mentioned, placing an arm around his shoulders, "where's captain duck? Cake-eater?"
"I... don't know," he hesitated.
"Bad Charlie," Averman scratched his thick red hair, "at this rate, I'll be made captain and he'll be watching. So, should we cover?"
"Orion won't buy it," Kenny grunted, muffled as he tried to find the hole in his jersey through which his head should fit.
"Still, we should try…" Dwayne mentioned.
Ignoring them once again, Adam looked over to the bash brothers in time to see Portman caress Fulton's thigh before going for his bag.
"G-d Portman go fuck him somewhere else," he spat. The entire locker room went quiet as they all turned questioning eyes to the Bashes. The Chicagoan had warning in his eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean Banks?" Fulton asked.
"Don't you think the team has a right to know how sick you guys are? How perverted? They've been fucking each other for G-d knows how long." If looks could kill, Adam Banks would be dead ten times over, six feet under and showing the decay of eight months.
"‘Zat true?" Goldberg asked defensiveness clouding his eyes.
"Naw, Banks is just making shit up because he feels like there isn't enough drama in his life."
"Fuck you Portman. I walked in on you Saturday morning. You were boning Fult like a whore, and he was enjoying it."
Fulton stepped forward, "look guys, what's the big deal? It's not like we've changed or anything." They all took involuntary steps backwards.
"We're not going to come at you, pelvis first." Portman rolled his eyes coming up behind Fulton.
"I doubt that." Mendoza spat accusatorily.
"Doncha guys read the bible? That stuff's wrong," Dwayne piped up.
"I was in the showers with you guys." Goldberg sounded horrified. Kenny simply looked away, Averman attempted to joke, "Well I guess we can't drop the soap anymore."
"Aw come on, they haven't danced around in snakeskin pants or anything," Guy protested, "Like they said, they're still the same."
"But now that we know, they don't have to be restrained. I wouldn't be surprised if Fulton put on a shirt with rainbows and pink triangles," Averman suggested.
"Guy and Kenny don't care," Fulton accused, "why can't you guys be more open."
"I never said I didn't care, I don't like it, but it's your guys' thing," Kenny shrugged.
"What if one of them comes after you Kenny? What'll you do then?" Adam queried.
"I don't know, but I doubt that it'll happen."
"Damn straight, like I said, we're not going to hit on you."
"Oh great now he's insulting our looks," Averman said flippantly, attempting to keep to his normal self.
"You guys disgust me."
"Right back atcha Banksie, you fucking homophobe."
"Fuc-"
"Language Banks, Portman," Orion stalked in somberly, head down. The ruckus that had spurred came screeching to a silent halt.
“Sorry coach,” Banks mumbled, hanging his head down submissively, the hard dark eyes of his teammate cutting through his flesh.
“It’s okay… um… guys…” he muttered unable to string together a coherent sentence, his words thick and awkward. None of the Ducks had ever seen their headstrong, assertive coach like this, yet none had the words to intertwine with the awkward sight in front of them and instead continued lacing their skates and taping their socks. Averman finally broke the silence.
“Coach who died?” he chuckled dryly. Orion bit his lip.
“Conway… he’s been… hurt…” he whispered hoarsely.
~*~
The empty apartment echoed with the ringing of the phone from the kitchen. After six drawn out tones, it stopped and a poorly recorded machine clicked on.
“Hello, you’ve reached Casey and Charlie, sorry we’re not here, but leave a your name and number and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!”
“Um, hello, Ms. Conway,” a frigid trembling voice reverberated. “This is Dean Buckley from Eden Hall Academy. I’m sorry to tell you, but there has been an accident involving your son Charlie. We’ll try to contact you at your work number, but if you get this message, it’d be best for you to call us back immediately. Thank you.”
There was a firm click and then silence.
Summary: It's not a story. It's life. Grade 12 at Eden Hall brings about new beginings and ends. Connie leaves the team, the Bash Brothers struggle while Adam and Charlie unlock their own secrets. Maybe Ducks don't always fly together. [slash] [het] [complete]
Author's Note: [Jessi]: Longer chapter for the masses, and an update in the same week! *gasp* Je wrote the locker room scene, Ki wrote the rest. All hockey equipment/misc information comes from her. Back to the homework slums for meee. [Kaila] I have nothing to say really…
Fandom: Mighty Ducks
Chapter: 16
Disclaimer: Ducks bow to mouse… pirates bow to mouse, Lions bow to mouse, pretty much everything bows to the mouse. It’s the circle of life.
~*~
Casey swan into consciousness. The inside of her eyelids red with the light from outside. The bed was too comfortable to be her own, and there was strange warmth to her left. She smiled, remembering back when Charlie used to climb into bed with her when he was younger. He blamed it on nightmares, but that wasn't always true.
Cracking open her blue eyes, she noted that neither she nor Mark were wearing clothes. Well that was a productive first date. Charlie would kill me, or spew at knowing I slept with him. She frowned remembering their fight. She couldn't believe that Charlie would smoke pot, or do drugs, but then, she had done some stupid things as a teenager. There was no way in hell that she would ever want to return to that time, except maybe being in the comfort of her parent's house, and not worrying about paying the bills on time. Her son was getting a good, free, education, and she was relatively happy. I think I'll bake him some cookies today and return all of his clothes. She glanced over at Mark again as his eyes fluttered, lifting from the dream world.
Leaning over him, she kissed his shoulder, "Morning handsome."
~*~
Adam dropped his bag to the concrete floor, barely hearing the clatter of his stick over the din in the echo-y room. He was perplexed. This was two practices in less than a week that Charlie had missed. His roommate hadn't bothered to show up during the night either. Spazway lived for hockey. At this rate, he was bound to get kicked off the team in his last year. Unzipping his bag, Adam collapsed onto the bench and began to pull equipment out.
Brown eyes skimmed the room, his comrades in various states of dress. Guy was simply staring at his skates, not attempting to don his gear, while Averman was in shoulder pads and boxers, animatedly telling Russ a story about some chick in his geography class.
"Hey Mendoza! What's our History homework for tomorrow?"
"Your mom!" the Floridian laughed at Dwayne's face eliciting a jeer from Goldberg.
On the other side of the room, Adam grimaced; Fulton and Portman had their heads together and were talking quietly. His stomach twisted. G-d why couldn't' anyone see that they were fucking each other? Fulton was practically in Portman's lap
Turning away he picked up one of his shin guards and pulled it in place. Hunting for his other, he felt a snap on his back. Averman laughed holding up the rolled towel, along with Kenny and Goldberg.
"You shoulda seen the look on your face."
"Priceless." Goldberg mentioned, placing an arm around his shoulders, "where's captain duck? Cake-eater?"
"I... don't know," he hesitated.
"Bad Charlie," Averman scratched his thick red hair, "at this rate, I'll be made captain and he'll be watching. So, should we cover?"
"Orion won't buy it," Kenny grunted, muffled as he tried to find the hole in his jersey through which his head should fit.
"Still, we should try…" Dwayne mentioned.
Ignoring them once again, Adam looked over to the bash brothers in time to see Portman caress Fulton's thigh before going for his bag.
"G-d Portman go fuck him somewhere else," he spat. The entire locker room went quiet as they all turned questioning eyes to the Bashes. The Chicagoan had warning in his eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean Banks?" Fulton asked.
"Don't you think the team has a right to know how sick you guys are? How perverted? They've been fucking each other for G-d knows how long." If looks could kill, Adam Banks would be dead ten times over, six feet under and showing the decay of eight months.
"‘Zat true?" Goldberg asked defensiveness clouding his eyes.
"Naw, Banks is just making shit up because he feels like there isn't enough drama in his life."
"Fuck you Portman. I walked in on you Saturday morning. You were boning Fult like a whore, and he was enjoying it."
Fulton stepped forward, "look guys, what's the big deal? It's not like we've changed or anything." They all took involuntary steps backwards.
"We're not going to come at you, pelvis first." Portman rolled his eyes coming up behind Fulton.
"I doubt that." Mendoza spat accusatorily.
"Doncha guys read the bible? That stuff's wrong," Dwayne piped up.
"I was in the showers with you guys." Goldberg sounded horrified. Kenny simply looked away, Averman attempted to joke, "Well I guess we can't drop the soap anymore."
"Aw come on, they haven't danced around in snakeskin pants or anything," Guy protested, "Like they said, they're still the same."
"But now that we know, they don't have to be restrained. I wouldn't be surprised if Fulton put on a shirt with rainbows and pink triangles," Averman suggested.
"Guy and Kenny don't care," Fulton accused, "why can't you guys be more open."
"I never said I didn't care, I don't like it, but it's your guys' thing," Kenny shrugged.
"What if one of them comes after you Kenny? What'll you do then?" Adam queried.
"I don't know, but I doubt that it'll happen."
"Damn straight, like I said, we're not going to hit on you."
"Oh great now he's insulting our looks," Averman said flippantly, attempting to keep to his normal self.
"You guys disgust me."
"Right back atcha Banksie, you fucking homophobe."
"Fuc-"
"Language Banks, Portman," Orion stalked in somberly, head down. The ruckus that had spurred came screeching to a silent halt.
“Sorry coach,” Banks mumbled, hanging his head down submissively, the hard dark eyes of his teammate cutting through his flesh.
“It’s okay… um… guys…” he muttered unable to string together a coherent sentence, his words thick and awkward. None of the Ducks had ever seen their headstrong, assertive coach like this, yet none had the words to intertwine with the awkward sight in front of them and instead continued lacing their skates and taping their socks. Averman finally broke the silence.
“Coach who died?” he chuckled dryly. Orion bit his lip.
“Conway… he’s been… hurt…” he whispered hoarsely.
~*~
The empty apartment echoed with the ringing of the phone from the kitchen. After six drawn out tones, it stopped and a poorly recorded machine clicked on.
“Hello, you’ve reached Casey and Charlie, sorry we’re not here, but leave a your name and number and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!”
“Um, hello, Ms. Conway,” a frigid trembling voice reverberated. “This is Dean Buckley from Eden Hall Academy. I’m sorry to tell you, but there has been an accident involving your son Charlie. We’ll try to contact you at your work number, but if you get this message, it’d be best for you to call us back immediately. Thank you.”
There was a firm click and then silence.