Keep Me Close- Chapter III
Team: San Jose Sharks
Pairing: Joe Thornton/Evgeni Nabokov
Rating: PG-13 for language and racism for now (NC-17 later)
Note: (Hopefully) all of the spelling mistakes are intentional, and are there to show accents and to differentiate the characters. And marriages and girlfriends are non-existent for the main characters.
Summary: Not all in San Jose is sunny as the path to the Stanley Cup proves to be as difficult as ever, falling in love might be the simplest task on this year’s agenda.
Chapter I
Chapter II
Disclaimer: Completely fictional story for non-fictional people
-Chapter III-
He huffed as he flopped onto a corner of the bed that Evgeni was sleeping on, whose back was leaning against the headboard and body sprawled across the sheets. Joe sucked in a deep breath, only to realize how pungent the goalie’s clothing was. Joints protesting, Joe leaned his weight forward and let his momentum push him off the welcoming mattress. Analyzing the scene before him, Joe barely contained a despondent groan, and opted to hang his heavy head instead.
Hoping that he remembered goaltender gear anatomy, Joe began with the black practice jersey. Keeping the other’s limp arms above his head proved to be difficult and thus forced Joe to sit besides Evgeni, taking both of his wrists in a large hand. He sunk his free fingers into the bottom hem of the jersey and tugged up a little from alternating sides. The cloth hitched up higher to reveal the padding underneath, but Joe came to a halt when he reached the junction in between Evgeni’s raised arms and the bottom of his chin.
Muscles tensed in anticipation, and Joe released Evgeni’s wrists, letting them to fall. As the limbs descended, Joe shoved himself flush to the other chest, snaking his hands behind Evgeni and under his arms. Caught in an awkward hug, Joe rested his forehead in the crook of Evgeni’s neck and groaned in irritation.
The jersey was repulsive to the touch, and shot nauseated shivers up Joe’s crossed arms and through his chest. It bunched and twisted in a slimy mess, tingling on skin as if it was moving, centipedes squirming in Joe’s hold. Blanching, he lifted his head from the damp neck, bringing his arms up and peeling the dank material from Evgeni’s body. By the time the jersey was flipped inside out, Joe was kneeling above the man’s waist.
Joe’s arms offered high in the air, pulling tight, and Evgeni’s head popped out after getting his nose snagged on the collar. His hair knotted even further and Joe tugged on the jersey’s hem, the sleeves released the Russian’s arms with little resistance. Finally free, Evgeni slumped against the headboard under Joe, who tossed the load into the corner of the room.
Rolling his head, vertebras cracked and realigned by the time Joe peered back at the man beneath him. The jersey, dubbed “the menace” was long gone, but in its place, protective chest padding blatantly laughed at Joe in the face. How was he going to remove that?
“Goddamn. Stupid. Goalie equipment.” Joe mumbled under his breath. Leaning back on his haunches, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes, attempting to remain calm. A moan grumbled in the back of Joe’s throat and he re-opened his eyes forcing himself to make a start with something on the chest padding.
“I swear Nabby, if you didn’t go and faint like a chick, I would have the mind to talk to you about how fucking unnecessary the size of this is.”
“Bhetter not wake hup then… that conversation sounds ’orrible.”
The sudden appearance of a voice other than his own spooked the hardened 6’4” hockey player a lot more than he would have liked to admit. He stared wide-eyed at Evgeni, whose expression retained that of one still sleeping. But when an eye cracked open, Joe’s disbelief turned to embarrassment as he sent a heated glare downwards.
About to give the man that he was practically straddling a piece of his mind, he paused when he saw Evgeni’s face. The Russian’s dull eyes were hooded, while staring blankly up at Joe. Exhaustion sunk in as the stormy orbs were once again hidden behind heavy lids. At first glance, Joe would have been worried sick for his teammate, terrified, even; but he looked passed the tired eyes, and smiled in relief at what he saw.
Evgeni’s lips were parted, the sides twitching ever so slightly in a playful grin. The easy-going, levelheaded man that Joe missed seeing, rather than the defeated Evgeni he carried from an ice rink bathroom while unconscious.
Unable to control the happiness any longer, a smile split across his face. Joe’s eyes crinkled when the flesh of his cheeks stretched to accommodate his large smile. Pride nearly thrown out the window, Joe was able to grasp the last shred of his masculine dignity with a snarky remark.
“Real funny wise guy... Now are you done wit’ your beauty sleep or should I let you be, princess? Because I really need to get your-”
“Goddhamn stupid goalie equipiment off?… Ya, I know…” The said goalie let his sentence trail away, eyes distant, before he cringed in pain while the eyes snapped together again. Muscles worked as Evgeni clenched his jaw, beads of sweat freshly beading upon his forehead.
All Joe could do was watch in sadness for his teammate who was in so much pain. Finally, Evgeni managed to crack open one eye and stare straight into Joe’s.
“I whould love to help-” His breathing hitched, “But I can’t move mya body-” He coughed for breath again, “Without being in pain.”
His words sounded tight in his chest, and forced through his throat for Joe to hear. “It’s whorse than before… Iya don’t theenk… I don’t theenk I can move at all, Joe.”
Filled with over-protectiveness and responsibility for his teammate, Joe was disheartened by the fact that he still had no idea about what he could do. He figured talking would be a simple way to ease Evgeni’s troubled mind, so Joe sputtered out the first words that entered his brain.
“So I guess I’m gonna have to wrestle your clothes off myself?”
Joe’s eye’s bulged to the size of lemons and he clamped a calloused hand over the mouth that had just betrayed him. To his humiliation, Evgeni merely choked out a small chuckle.
“Iya guess so… I’ll help nhext time though.” He licked his chapped lips, and continued with a soft voice. What he said was too quiet for Joe to comprehend, so he leaned closer, nearly chest to chest to Evgeni for the second time in the span of one night.
“Is there any mhore whater?”
Nodding with a ghost of a smile, Joe swung his leg over Evgeni, finally releasing the body of his weight. He shuffled to mini-fridge under the television and crouched down. His knees cracked and Joe winced at the noise reverberating throughout his body. He opened the fridge, grabbed four water bottles and closed the small door with his elbow.
Steeling himself, Joe bounced his knees, popping up from his crouched position on the ground. Glancing at the water in large hands, Joe grimaced. “Seriously?” he whispered to himself.
“Okay Nabs, you better appreciate this, I mean really, one water is four bucks!”
He read the label while he walked back to sit on the side of the bad. “Fortified premium fresh water from the springs of the Sierra Mountains, approved by the by the NACWA… Huh, what happened to just normal water?” Joe questioned in a huff. Crashing onto the side of the bed, the frustrated man glanced at his teammate.
Evgeni’s eyes were closed; he had not responded to Joe’s juvenile outburst like he normally did, with sarcasm and a carefully hidden smile. Brows furrowing, Joe set the water on the bed side table, and brought a hand up to the other’s face. He patted the flushed cheek, and then cupped the jaw with his gentle hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over the cheekbone.
“Hey Nabs? Okay, really, this isn’t funny anymore, man. You can stop now.” He remained unresponsive to Joe’s prodding, his expression pacific with closed eyes and a smooth brow. Joe’s demeanor abruptly became frantic.
“I got your water right here, see? Ya want it??” He grabbed a bottle, and sloshed it in front of Evgeni’s face, still tranquil. Hastily, he twisted the cap off, threw it over his shoulder and shoved the mouth of the bottle to parted lips, nearly spilling its contents all over Evgeni’s head.
After the longest five minutes of Joe’s life, and two and a quarter bottles of water later, the slumbering man stirred. The center released a shuddering breath he did not realize he was holding when Evgeni’s eyes finally focused on him. “Oh thank god… Shit Nabby, please don’t do that again.”
Forcing a weak smirk, it took Evgeni a few seconds to reply, “Why?… Whorried?”
“Damn straight I was.”
“… Sorry.”
Joe sighed, turning away from Evgeni, and set the open water bottle on the table besides him. “It’s fine. But if you kept that up any longer, I might ’ave called for an ambulance.”
Even without looking, Joe knew Evgeni wore a face of repugnance. Hands folded in his lap, Joe watched his thumbs tap together when he received a response.
“Oh…” Joe heard him licking his dry lips. “So why, ah, didn’t you cahll before?”
“Would you have wanted me to?” Joe questioned, still staring at his thumbs battling for dominance, his left more accurate than his right. “Ya see: if you went to the hospital, everyone and their mother would have known about this in the morning…”
“Yeah… I mean no. I mean…” He sighed in frustration. “Thank you.” He whispered in a small voice. “You’re right. I wouldn’t ’ave liked that.”
Joe waved him off, walking to the fridge and snatching the last two water bottles, placing them on the table, within Evgeni’s reach. The three and three fourths bottles of water seemed to be humorous to the Russian, as his eyes flickered to Joe, a tiny spark in his eye. “How much does h’all that cohst you?”
“Oh, so ya heard that, but you fall asleep right before I want you awake?”
Evgeni scrunched his nose, puzzled. “Vwhat?”
“Nothing, you just have great timing.” He answered, rolling his eyes.
“Thank you?” Evgeni questioned, hearing Joe’s sarcasm, but not quite understanding what he was talking about. “But really, I’m jhust curious. How much are you going to sphend? Iya hope that you know that you are paying.”
Shooting a half-hearted glare at Evgeni, a smirk crept onto his face. “Well, you laugh now, but you should know that you’re gonna need help showering in the morning. Ya know, with me helping.”
At that, the mirth on Evgeni’s face vanished in an instant, replaced by a look of dread.
“Now, now, no need to make a face like that,” chuckled Joe, “I’ll still have my clothes on. It’s just you we have to worry aboot.”
Finished, he slipped off the bed, an evil smile plastered on his face when he turned to the bed. With both hands, he took the rumpled comforter and laid it over Evgeni’s prone form. Tucking it under his neck and patting it smartly over Evgeni’s collarbone, it was then Joe realized he was still wearing his equipment.
Eye’s widening and smirk vanishing at his own stupidity, Joe ducked his head in embarrassment, muttering the word “idiot” to himself repeatedly. Taking a deep breath through his nose and gnawing at the inside of his cheek, Joe looked at Evgeni, but avoided looking him in the eye. “Sorry… It’s not time to sleep yet…”
Evgeni rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Whell it’s about time you remembered.”
With small movements, Evgeni managed to shimmy his upper body out of the covers, which then slipped to the ground with a small kick of his skate clad foot. Joe made his way over to the foot of the bed.
“Can’t move, huh?”
Evgeni sniffed, “That did nhot count as moving.” The mattress squeaked when Joe lifted Evgeni’s right foot in his hands.
Raising the leg higher, Joe set the foot on his shoulder, and used both of his hands to unbuckle the leg pad. There were seven in all, and Joe started at one of the three that clasped at the back of Evgeni’s calf. They loosened with Joe’s jerky movements, coming undone when the leather strap slipped through the metal buckle.
He leaned forward and Evgeni’s leg bent at the knee, his ankle still resting next to Joe’s ear. He undid the two buckles at the knee and then ripped the large Velcro strap at the inner thigh away. He slipped back, and Evgeni’s leg angled lower again, the padding almost gone, the lone clasp hooked around the skate.
Evgeni hissed when Joe took the calf in his hands, lifting it from his stiff shoulder and laying it delicately onto the bed. Sidestepping to the right, Joe set the still padded left leg against his neck and removed the buckles hastily. He rested the leg on the bed, and smiled up to Evgeni, who returned a grimace, nonetheless, a smile all the same.
“How ya hanging in there Nabs?”
A high pitched whine filled Joe’s ears, before he heard a strained “Fine. Never been bhetter.”
Scratchy carpet fibers dug into Joe’s knees, as he dropped to the floor in order for him to become even with the skates. Quick fingers slipped between the blades; removing the final confinement of Evgeni’s legs. Smiling, Joe jumped up and peeled the pads away, throwing them in the corner of the room where the Jersey remained motionless.
A look of pure relief flashed over Evgeni’s face when the pads were removed. He did not even try to hide the loud content sigh that left his lips. “Hmmm… That’s nice.”
“I aim to please.” Joe replied, taking the left skate, weighing it in his palm. Tilting his head over the skate, his left hand fumbled with the tight laces, his nails dug into the rope-like material. Decidedly loose enough, Joe pulled and the lace gave a satisfying zzzzzzp when the string came undone.
He cradled the Achilles tendon, and snuck his left-hand fingers into the available space between Evgeni’s calf and the upper notch of the skate. As Joe clutched the skate tighter, the inner padding formed to accommodate the extra mass of the center’s large fingers, secreting stale sweat, and creating a sickening squelch. Both men winced at the combined overwhelming power of the smell and sound.
The skate slipped off painfully slow, Joe courteous enough to remain at the safe pace, rather than yanking it from Evgeni’s foot painfully. The padding mimicked a suction cup, as the harder Joe pulled, the tighter the hold on Evgeni’s ankle became. At last, the skate came off with a pop, and Joe placed it by his knee on the unforgiving shag carpet. Repeating the same process with the other shoe, and Evgeni wiggled his sock-clad toes in Joe’s face.
Joe was torn between joining the other in his happiness, or to throw up his stomach’s contents because of the smell that was suffocating him. Instead, Joe took the skates in one hand, and ran to the sliding glass window. Wrenching it open, he dropped the two skates’ unceremoniously onto the ground with a noise of displeasure from Evgeni in the background.
Joe left the window wide open, allowing the fresh air to caress his body and lift the stink from his clothes. He sauntered back to the bed’s side, wiping his open palms on his tee-shirt, and streaking it with musty sweat.
Now standing over Evgeni, who was peering back up through clumped lashes, Joe saw the cracks in the carefully placed mask that his teammate had set up. Thinking back, he first saw the steeled face on the last plane ride from Dallas, when Evgeni arrived three hours late for the ride back to San Jose. Joe had not put much thought about the tardiness and the somber attitude at the time, crediting it to the backlash of the devastating playoff loss.
But when he saw Evgeni yesterday for the first time since the beginning of summer, the uncharacteristic hard face was still in place, and the Evgeni Joe knew disappeared. Now, Joe could barely discern Evgeni’s smile from when they first saw each other after the summer, from the grimace that accompanied his muscle spasms. Joe was not ashamed to admit it: he missed the old Evgeni.
Looking down at the exhausted man lying on the bed, defenseless before him, he saw that the walls were crumbling, and pieces of the real Evgeni could be seen, even if a shadow of his former self. His hand unconsciously laid itself on the other’s forehead, sweeping away the untamed bangs with soft fingertips. His other hand reached for Evgeni’s and held tight. The Russian merely stared back at Joe, waiting.
“Nabby…” Joe trailed off; his eyes darted across Evgeni’s face for flickering emotions, but he saw none. “What exactly happened?” Joe inquired with slow words, his hand coming to a rest on Evgeni’s temple, his thumb smoothing over an eyebrow.
Eyes flashed their sunrise on water hue, before returning to a rainy day grey. How Joe missed those vibrant blue eyes when the depressing storm cloud replaced them. Evgeni opened his mouth, licked his lips, and pursed them together again, thinking. He clicked his tongue and answered, “Thyere… thyere is nothing to say… Nothing “’appened” He quoted with his fingers half-heartedly.
The muscles in Joe’s jaw and shoulders tensed as he became frustrated. “Nothing?” He repeated incredulously. “You call this nothing?” He hissed, his eyes narrowing in a heated glare, his grip on Evgeni’s clammy hand tightening.
Evgeni winced at Joe’s tightened hold on his wrist. “Augh, J-Joe…” Said man’s grip loosened at the Russian’s pained voice. Thankful yet ashamed, Evgeni refused to meet Joe in the eye. “I cahn’t explain… It juhst hurts when I try to, ah, think about it.” His head lolled to the side on the pillow by the end of his sentence.
A frown pulled at his lips when a faraway look glazed over his eyes. He spoke in a whisper, “It’s like… I don’t whant myself to remehmber.”
Closing the heavy eyelids, Evgeni turned away from the man besides him. Joe in turn let his grasp on the other’s wrist become slack, as his hard glare melted to a look of sympathy. The spring bed squeaked with protestation as Joe sat down, and he bought his left leg up, crossing his ankle over his right knee. The hand that was holding Evgeni’s wrist slid up to lace their fingers together.
Looking at the clasped hands with unexpressive eyes, Evgeni refused to grip the hand back. Joe swallowed and squeezed reassuringly. “Hey,” He began, leaning down, to be even with Evgeni’s face. “Hey, look at me…” Continuing with his gentle tone as the Russian stared into space. “Nabs… Evgeni…”
Showing signs of response, Evgeni rolled his limp head to gaze hazily back into Joe’s imploring eyes. “Vwhat? What do you whant me to tehll you Joe? I just whant to sleep, I’m so tired…” His face crumpled and Joe found it hard to push any further.
But he manages to smile back sadly. “I know.” He whispered. “You have every right to be too.” The man lying on the bed visibly relaxed at Joe’s words.
“Boot just try to explain to me what-" A lengthy whine interrupted the center.
“I thought you said zhat you understyood.” Evgeni moaned, obviously frustrated.
“Please,” Joe stressed, removing his hand from Evgeni’s forehead and clamping it around their already intertwined fingers. He rests his brow upon his link with Evgeni, screwing his eyes shut, and pressing his hands closer.
“Please, I don’t want ya to hurt. But you can’t do this alone. Just talk, and I’ll do everythin’ else.” Without raising his head, Joe waited with a breath in his chest for Evgeni’s response.
Observing the man holding their hands to him as a lifeline, The Russian hesitated for only a second. He knew that he was unable to deny the man’s request, for making Joe upset over him was not Evgeni’s intention. Sucking in a breath, he managed to mutter out a quick “fine” before squeezing Joe’s hand with his own.
Pairing: Joe Thornton/Evgeni Nabokov
Rating: PG-13 for language and racism for now (NC-17 later)
Note: (Hopefully) all of the spelling mistakes are intentional, and are there to show accents and to differentiate the characters. And marriages and girlfriends are non-existent for the main characters.
Summary: Not all in San Jose is sunny as the path to the Stanley Cup proves to be as difficult as ever, falling in love might be the simplest task on this year’s agenda.
Chapter I
Chapter II
Disclaimer: Completely fictional story for non-fictional people
-Chapter III-
He huffed as he flopped onto a corner of the bed that Evgeni was sleeping on, whose back was leaning against the headboard and body sprawled across the sheets. Joe sucked in a deep breath, only to realize how pungent the goalie’s clothing was. Joints protesting, Joe leaned his weight forward and let his momentum push him off the welcoming mattress. Analyzing the scene before him, Joe barely contained a despondent groan, and opted to hang his heavy head instead.
Hoping that he remembered goaltender gear anatomy, Joe began with the black practice jersey. Keeping the other’s limp arms above his head proved to be difficult and thus forced Joe to sit besides Evgeni, taking both of his wrists in a large hand. He sunk his free fingers into the bottom hem of the jersey and tugged up a little from alternating sides. The cloth hitched up higher to reveal the padding underneath, but Joe came to a halt when he reached the junction in between Evgeni’s raised arms and the bottom of his chin.
Muscles tensed in anticipation, and Joe released Evgeni’s wrists, letting them to fall. As the limbs descended, Joe shoved himself flush to the other chest, snaking his hands behind Evgeni and under his arms. Caught in an awkward hug, Joe rested his forehead in the crook of Evgeni’s neck and groaned in irritation.
The jersey was repulsive to the touch, and shot nauseated shivers up Joe’s crossed arms and through his chest. It bunched and twisted in a slimy mess, tingling on skin as if it was moving, centipedes squirming in Joe’s hold. Blanching, he lifted his head from the damp neck, bringing his arms up and peeling the dank material from Evgeni’s body. By the time the jersey was flipped inside out, Joe was kneeling above the man’s waist.
Joe’s arms offered high in the air, pulling tight, and Evgeni’s head popped out after getting his nose snagged on the collar. His hair knotted even further and Joe tugged on the jersey’s hem, the sleeves released the Russian’s arms with little resistance. Finally free, Evgeni slumped against the headboard under Joe, who tossed the load into the corner of the room.
Rolling his head, vertebras cracked and realigned by the time Joe peered back at the man beneath him. The jersey, dubbed “the menace” was long gone, but in its place, protective chest padding blatantly laughed at Joe in the face. How was he going to remove that?
“Goddamn. Stupid. Goalie equipment.” Joe mumbled under his breath. Leaning back on his haunches, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes, attempting to remain calm. A moan grumbled in the back of Joe’s throat and he re-opened his eyes forcing himself to make a start with something on the chest padding.
“I swear Nabby, if you didn’t go and faint like a chick, I would have the mind to talk to you about how fucking unnecessary the size of this is.”
“Bhetter not wake hup then… that conversation sounds ’orrible.”
The sudden appearance of a voice other than his own spooked the hardened 6’4” hockey player a lot more than he would have liked to admit. He stared wide-eyed at Evgeni, whose expression retained that of one still sleeping. But when an eye cracked open, Joe’s disbelief turned to embarrassment as he sent a heated glare downwards.
About to give the man that he was practically straddling a piece of his mind, he paused when he saw Evgeni’s face. The Russian’s dull eyes were hooded, while staring blankly up at Joe. Exhaustion sunk in as the stormy orbs were once again hidden behind heavy lids. At first glance, Joe would have been worried sick for his teammate, terrified, even; but he looked passed the tired eyes, and smiled in relief at what he saw.
Evgeni’s lips were parted, the sides twitching ever so slightly in a playful grin. The easy-going, levelheaded man that Joe missed seeing, rather than the defeated Evgeni he carried from an ice rink bathroom while unconscious.
Unable to control the happiness any longer, a smile split across his face. Joe’s eyes crinkled when the flesh of his cheeks stretched to accommodate his large smile. Pride nearly thrown out the window, Joe was able to grasp the last shred of his masculine dignity with a snarky remark.
“Real funny wise guy... Now are you done wit’ your beauty sleep or should I let you be, princess? Because I really need to get your-”
“Goddhamn stupid goalie equipiment off?… Ya, I know…” The said goalie let his sentence trail away, eyes distant, before he cringed in pain while the eyes snapped together again. Muscles worked as Evgeni clenched his jaw, beads of sweat freshly beading upon his forehead.
All Joe could do was watch in sadness for his teammate who was in so much pain. Finally, Evgeni managed to crack open one eye and stare straight into Joe’s.
“I whould love to help-” His breathing hitched, “But I can’t move mya body-” He coughed for breath again, “Without being in pain.”
His words sounded tight in his chest, and forced through his throat for Joe to hear. “It’s whorse than before… Iya don’t theenk… I don’t theenk I can move at all, Joe.”
Filled with over-protectiveness and responsibility for his teammate, Joe was disheartened by the fact that he still had no idea about what he could do. He figured talking would be a simple way to ease Evgeni’s troubled mind, so Joe sputtered out the first words that entered his brain.
“So I guess I’m gonna have to wrestle your clothes off myself?”
Joe’s eye’s bulged to the size of lemons and he clamped a calloused hand over the mouth that had just betrayed him. To his humiliation, Evgeni merely choked out a small chuckle.
“Iya guess so… I’ll help nhext time though.” He licked his chapped lips, and continued with a soft voice. What he said was too quiet for Joe to comprehend, so he leaned closer, nearly chest to chest to Evgeni for the second time in the span of one night.
“Is there any mhore whater?”
Nodding with a ghost of a smile, Joe swung his leg over Evgeni, finally releasing the body of his weight. He shuffled to mini-fridge under the television and crouched down. His knees cracked and Joe winced at the noise reverberating throughout his body. He opened the fridge, grabbed four water bottles and closed the small door with his elbow.
Steeling himself, Joe bounced his knees, popping up from his crouched position on the ground. Glancing at the water in large hands, Joe grimaced. “Seriously?” he whispered to himself.
“Okay Nabs, you better appreciate this, I mean really, one water is four bucks!”
He read the label while he walked back to sit on the side of the bad. “Fortified premium fresh water from the springs of the Sierra Mountains, approved by the by the NACWA… Huh, what happened to just normal water?” Joe questioned in a huff. Crashing onto the side of the bed, the frustrated man glanced at his teammate.
Evgeni’s eyes were closed; he had not responded to Joe’s juvenile outburst like he normally did, with sarcasm and a carefully hidden smile. Brows furrowing, Joe set the water on the bed side table, and brought a hand up to the other’s face. He patted the flushed cheek, and then cupped the jaw with his gentle hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over the cheekbone.
“Hey Nabs? Okay, really, this isn’t funny anymore, man. You can stop now.” He remained unresponsive to Joe’s prodding, his expression pacific with closed eyes and a smooth brow. Joe’s demeanor abruptly became frantic.
“I got your water right here, see? Ya want it??” He grabbed a bottle, and sloshed it in front of Evgeni’s face, still tranquil. Hastily, he twisted the cap off, threw it over his shoulder and shoved the mouth of the bottle to parted lips, nearly spilling its contents all over Evgeni’s head.
After the longest five minutes of Joe’s life, and two and a quarter bottles of water later, the slumbering man stirred. The center released a shuddering breath he did not realize he was holding when Evgeni’s eyes finally focused on him. “Oh thank god… Shit Nabby, please don’t do that again.”
Forcing a weak smirk, it took Evgeni a few seconds to reply, “Why?… Whorried?”
“Damn straight I was.”
“… Sorry.”
Joe sighed, turning away from Evgeni, and set the open water bottle on the table besides him. “It’s fine. But if you kept that up any longer, I might ’ave called for an ambulance.”
Even without looking, Joe knew Evgeni wore a face of repugnance. Hands folded in his lap, Joe watched his thumbs tap together when he received a response.
“Oh…” Joe heard him licking his dry lips. “So why, ah, didn’t you cahll before?”
“Would you have wanted me to?” Joe questioned, still staring at his thumbs battling for dominance, his left more accurate than his right. “Ya see: if you went to the hospital, everyone and their mother would have known about this in the morning…”
“Yeah… I mean no. I mean…” He sighed in frustration. “Thank you.” He whispered in a small voice. “You’re right. I wouldn’t ’ave liked that.”
Joe waved him off, walking to the fridge and snatching the last two water bottles, placing them on the table, within Evgeni’s reach. The three and three fourths bottles of water seemed to be humorous to the Russian, as his eyes flickered to Joe, a tiny spark in his eye. “How much does h’all that cohst you?”
“Oh, so ya heard that, but you fall asleep right before I want you awake?”
Evgeni scrunched his nose, puzzled. “Vwhat?”
“Nothing, you just have great timing.” He answered, rolling his eyes.
“Thank you?” Evgeni questioned, hearing Joe’s sarcasm, but not quite understanding what he was talking about. “But really, I’m jhust curious. How much are you going to sphend? Iya hope that you know that you are paying.”
Shooting a half-hearted glare at Evgeni, a smirk crept onto his face. “Well, you laugh now, but you should know that you’re gonna need help showering in the morning. Ya know, with me helping.”
At that, the mirth on Evgeni’s face vanished in an instant, replaced by a look of dread.
“Now, now, no need to make a face like that,” chuckled Joe, “I’ll still have my clothes on. It’s just you we have to worry aboot.”
Finished, he slipped off the bed, an evil smile plastered on his face when he turned to the bed. With both hands, he took the rumpled comforter and laid it over Evgeni’s prone form. Tucking it under his neck and patting it smartly over Evgeni’s collarbone, it was then Joe realized he was still wearing his equipment.
Eye’s widening and smirk vanishing at his own stupidity, Joe ducked his head in embarrassment, muttering the word “idiot” to himself repeatedly. Taking a deep breath through his nose and gnawing at the inside of his cheek, Joe looked at Evgeni, but avoided looking him in the eye. “Sorry… It’s not time to sleep yet…”
Evgeni rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Whell it’s about time you remembered.”
With small movements, Evgeni managed to shimmy his upper body out of the covers, which then slipped to the ground with a small kick of his skate clad foot. Joe made his way over to the foot of the bed.
“Can’t move, huh?”
Evgeni sniffed, “That did nhot count as moving.” The mattress squeaked when Joe lifted Evgeni’s right foot in his hands.
Raising the leg higher, Joe set the foot on his shoulder, and used both of his hands to unbuckle the leg pad. There were seven in all, and Joe started at one of the three that clasped at the back of Evgeni’s calf. They loosened with Joe’s jerky movements, coming undone when the leather strap slipped through the metal buckle.
He leaned forward and Evgeni’s leg bent at the knee, his ankle still resting next to Joe’s ear. He undid the two buckles at the knee and then ripped the large Velcro strap at the inner thigh away. He slipped back, and Evgeni’s leg angled lower again, the padding almost gone, the lone clasp hooked around the skate.
Evgeni hissed when Joe took the calf in his hands, lifting it from his stiff shoulder and laying it delicately onto the bed. Sidestepping to the right, Joe set the still padded left leg against his neck and removed the buckles hastily. He rested the leg on the bed, and smiled up to Evgeni, who returned a grimace, nonetheless, a smile all the same.
“How ya hanging in there Nabs?”
A high pitched whine filled Joe’s ears, before he heard a strained “Fine. Never been bhetter.”
Scratchy carpet fibers dug into Joe’s knees, as he dropped to the floor in order for him to become even with the skates. Quick fingers slipped between the blades; removing the final confinement of Evgeni’s legs. Smiling, Joe jumped up and peeled the pads away, throwing them in the corner of the room where the Jersey remained motionless.
A look of pure relief flashed over Evgeni’s face when the pads were removed. He did not even try to hide the loud content sigh that left his lips. “Hmmm… That’s nice.”
“I aim to please.” Joe replied, taking the left skate, weighing it in his palm. Tilting his head over the skate, his left hand fumbled with the tight laces, his nails dug into the rope-like material. Decidedly loose enough, Joe pulled and the lace gave a satisfying zzzzzzp when the string came undone.
He cradled the Achilles tendon, and snuck his left-hand fingers into the available space between Evgeni’s calf and the upper notch of the skate. As Joe clutched the skate tighter, the inner padding formed to accommodate the extra mass of the center’s large fingers, secreting stale sweat, and creating a sickening squelch. Both men winced at the combined overwhelming power of the smell and sound.
The skate slipped off painfully slow, Joe courteous enough to remain at the safe pace, rather than yanking it from Evgeni’s foot painfully. The padding mimicked a suction cup, as the harder Joe pulled, the tighter the hold on Evgeni’s ankle became. At last, the skate came off with a pop, and Joe placed it by his knee on the unforgiving shag carpet. Repeating the same process with the other shoe, and Evgeni wiggled his sock-clad toes in Joe’s face.
Joe was torn between joining the other in his happiness, or to throw up his stomach’s contents because of the smell that was suffocating him. Instead, Joe took the skates in one hand, and ran to the sliding glass window. Wrenching it open, he dropped the two skates’ unceremoniously onto the ground with a noise of displeasure from Evgeni in the background.
Joe left the window wide open, allowing the fresh air to caress his body and lift the stink from his clothes. He sauntered back to the bed’s side, wiping his open palms on his tee-shirt, and streaking it with musty sweat.
Now standing over Evgeni, who was peering back up through clumped lashes, Joe saw the cracks in the carefully placed mask that his teammate had set up. Thinking back, he first saw the steeled face on the last plane ride from Dallas, when Evgeni arrived three hours late for the ride back to San Jose. Joe had not put much thought about the tardiness and the somber attitude at the time, crediting it to the backlash of the devastating playoff loss.
But when he saw Evgeni yesterday for the first time since the beginning of summer, the uncharacteristic hard face was still in place, and the Evgeni Joe knew disappeared. Now, Joe could barely discern Evgeni’s smile from when they first saw each other after the summer, from the grimace that accompanied his muscle spasms. Joe was not ashamed to admit it: he missed the old Evgeni.
Looking down at the exhausted man lying on the bed, defenseless before him, he saw that the walls were crumbling, and pieces of the real Evgeni could be seen, even if a shadow of his former self. His hand unconsciously laid itself on the other’s forehead, sweeping away the untamed bangs with soft fingertips. His other hand reached for Evgeni’s and held tight. The Russian merely stared back at Joe, waiting.
“Nabby…” Joe trailed off; his eyes darted across Evgeni’s face for flickering emotions, but he saw none. “What exactly happened?” Joe inquired with slow words, his hand coming to a rest on Evgeni’s temple, his thumb smoothing over an eyebrow.
Eyes flashed their sunrise on water hue, before returning to a rainy day grey. How Joe missed those vibrant blue eyes when the depressing storm cloud replaced them. Evgeni opened his mouth, licked his lips, and pursed them together again, thinking. He clicked his tongue and answered, “Thyere… thyere is nothing to say… Nothing “’appened” He quoted with his fingers half-heartedly.
The muscles in Joe’s jaw and shoulders tensed as he became frustrated. “Nothing?” He repeated incredulously. “You call this nothing?” He hissed, his eyes narrowing in a heated glare, his grip on Evgeni’s clammy hand tightening.
Evgeni winced at Joe’s tightened hold on his wrist. “Augh, J-Joe…” Said man’s grip loosened at the Russian’s pained voice. Thankful yet ashamed, Evgeni refused to meet Joe in the eye. “I cahn’t explain… It juhst hurts when I try to, ah, think about it.” His head lolled to the side on the pillow by the end of his sentence.
A frown pulled at his lips when a faraway look glazed over his eyes. He spoke in a whisper, “It’s like… I don’t whant myself to remehmber.”
Closing the heavy eyelids, Evgeni turned away from the man besides him. Joe in turn let his grasp on the other’s wrist become slack, as his hard glare melted to a look of sympathy. The spring bed squeaked with protestation as Joe sat down, and he bought his left leg up, crossing his ankle over his right knee. The hand that was holding Evgeni’s wrist slid up to lace their fingers together.
Looking at the clasped hands with unexpressive eyes, Evgeni refused to grip the hand back. Joe swallowed and squeezed reassuringly. “Hey,” He began, leaning down, to be even with Evgeni’s face. “Hey, look at me…” Continuing with his gentle tone as the Russian stared into space. “Nabs… Evgeni…”
Showing signs of response, Evgeni rolled his limp head to gaze hazily back into Joe’s imploring eyes. “Vwhat? What do you whant me to tehll you Joe? I just whant to sleep, I’m so tired…” His face crumpled and Joe found it hard to push any further.
But he manages to smile back sadly. “I know.” He whispered. “You have every right to be too.” The man lying on the bed visibly relaxed at Joe’s words.
“Boot just try to explain to me what-" A lengthy whine interrupted the center.
“I thought you said zhat you understyood.” Evgeni moaned, obviously frustrated.
“Please,” Joe stressed, removing his hand from Evgeni’s forehead and clamping it around their already intertwined fingers. He rests his brow upon his link with Evgeni, screwing his eyes shut, and pressing his hands closer.
“Please, I don’t want ya to hurt. But you can’t do this alone. Just talk, and I’ll do everythin’ else.” Without raising his head, Joe waited with a breath in his chest for Evgeni’s response.
Observing the man holding their hands to him as a lifeline, The Russian hesitated for only a second. He knew that he was unable to deny the man’s request, for making Joe upset over him was not Evgeni’s intention. Sucking in a breath, he managed to mutter out a quick “fine” before squeezing Joe’s hand with his own.