Fic: Never To Break You (1)
Title: Never To Break You
Pairing: Bieksa/Lapierre
Rating: Explicit
Notes: hooker!fic
Summary: Kevin Bieksa was looking forward to AHL player Maxim Lapierre joining the Canucks. And then Lapierre disappeared.
Dedicated to: xornej ! This fic would absolutely not exist if it wasn't for you. You've been the best everything for this fic, and I'd never be able to thank you enough. This is for you, because I absolutely love you, and you're the best ever, and you've spent what has to be hundreds of hours talking with me about this fic.
Also dedicated to your partners in crime, because you guys are awesome, even when you're making death threats/coining terms like FB!. Also, your blanket forts rule. Best. Readers. Ever.
The AHL is different. There’s something in the air here that isn’t at NHL games, and Kevin recognises its taste, remembers this. It’s desperation; these are players who are so close to their dream they can taste it. They play with a passion unmatched by even NHL players, play their hearts out every night. Here, every player is on the verge of the greatest possibility he can dream of, and his play is a plea to be counted among the stars.
Kevin loves watching AHL games, loves the showcase of raw talent and drive, the way the exceptional stands out like a beacon.
“That guy is great,” he says, nudging Ryan beside him. Ryan looks over from where he was busy trying to stick his tongue on Alex’s ice cream cone. Really, Kevin doesn’t know why he bothers bringing these two.
“You think they’re all great,” Ryan rolls his eyes. Admittedly, Kevin knows he’d make the worst NHL scout ever; he’d want to let everyone in.
“This is one of my favourites,” Kevin protests. He looks back at the ice; they have second-row tickets because he insists on it, and first row would just be too eager. Not that his companions care; he’s pretty sure Alex is only here for the food, and Ryan’s only here for Alex. He leaves them to their thing during the second intermission; Ryan succeeds in licking Alex’s ice cream, and Alex makes an extremely unhappy sound and curses at him in French.
When the third starts, though, Kevin jerks on Ryan’s sleeve to make him pay attention. “That guy,” Kevin says, “watch him.”
“Which?”
“Number forty.”
Ryan does as he’s told, and Alex even pays attention. Kevin’s seen more than his fair share of the team’s games; he knows who to watch. 40 is by far the most talented player on the team; he skates with an easy adeptness that begs for the NHL stage, handles the puck as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“He’s coming up to play with us, season after this one,” Kevin says, as the audience roars at 40’s goal, a beautiful snipe of a shot.
“Seriously?” Ryan asks, “how can you know that?
“I, uh, asked Coach.”
“Harassed coach,” Alex corrects.
“Since when do you know the nuances between words?” Kevin accuses, sighs when he hears Ryan predictably explain to Alex what nuances means. “So, fine, whatever, maybe I harassed him.” He hadn’t been able to resist; if they were calling up any players, it had to be this guy.
“I can see why,” Ryan allows, watching as play resumes. “He’s good.”
“He’s great,” Kevin says, leaning forward to watch.
“Gonna be a real good addition,” Ryan agrees for once, actually distracted enough by the game that he doesn’t try to irritate Alex anymore at the moment. “What’s his name?”
“Lapierre,” Kevin says. “Maxim Lapierre. Definitely gonna be seeing him in the dressing room next September.”
Lapierre scores the winning goal and the crowd screams with joy, his teammates gathering around him, throwing their arms around him, cheering. It’s like proof that sometimes the world works out just right, that someone this talented will get to live out his dreams.
Kevin can’t wait to call Lapierre his teammate.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When the next season starts, Kevin doesn’t get to go to an AHL game for a while. He’s too busy, spending every moment working towards getting off to a strong start this season. It’s January before he drags Alex and Ryan to a game.
Lapierre’s name is missing from the lineup announcement; Kevin figures he’s out on injury or something, doesn’t pay much heed to it, even though he’s disappointed.
When it happens again, at the next six games he goes to, he starts to get worried.
In a hotel room in March, Kevin ignores the movie Ryan’s watching with Alex in favour of searching online. He starts on the AHL team’s website, clicking through the roster. Lapierre’s name is still there on last season’s roster, a C next to his name.
It’s not on this season’s roster. The C has been given to someone else, and there’s nothing between Lai and Laslow on the list of offense players. He hasn’t been switched to defense, didn’t become a goalie, isn’t listed as injured.
What the fuck? Kevin frowns, goes back to the last season’s roster. He clicks on Lapierre’s profile, but it tells him nothing, just that he started on the AHL team a few years ago, up until last season.
There’s nothing about what happened after last season.
“Whatcha doin’?” Ryan tosses a pillow at his head, and Kevin bats it away.
“Reading, wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he says. Ryan snorts with laughter.
“Dude, you’re missing the greatest zombie movie of all time.”
“You say that about every zombie movie.”
“I mean it this time.”
“Uh-huh,” Kevin mumbles distractedly. Alex starts talking to Ryan then, thankfully; Ryan is so easily distracted by him. Kevin types Lapierre’s name into Google, because maybe he was traded or something.
The most recent thing that comes up is about last season’s championship game. No word about trades, about changing leagues, nothing.
Kevin spends the next three hours digging through all the search results, but nothing comes up. Lapierre is nowhere this season.
Maybe he’s taking a break from hockey, Kevin tells himself, even though that doesn’t make sense, not at all. He’ll be back. He’s being called up to play with us in September.
He’ll be back, Kevin tells himself, he’ll be in the locker room in September.
Every few weeks for the rest of the season, Kevin tries again, but he gets the same result every time. Lapierre carries his team all the way to the top, the headline reads, like Lapierre’s still there at the top, like he got there and just… disappeared.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Coming into the locker room for the first time in September is like coming home, even as it’s like walking into somewhere new. Some things, though, will never change: Ryan’s hanging out by Alex’s stall, Mason’s dangerously close to hitting himself in the face with a soccerball as he tries to juggle it, Chris is taping up a sign that says Canucks only NO ALIENS, NO COWBOYS, NO SQUIDS- NO EXCEPTIONS!!!, Schneider is trying to steal things out of Loo’s stall without him noticing, Bally’s smacking David’s cap off his head.
“Haven’t you antagonised him enough?” Kevin asks Ryan, coming over to his own stall near them. Ryan shrugs.
“Can’t blame me for missing him over the summer,” he says, grinning. Kevin sits before his stall, shakes his head.
“You saw him on Saturday.”
“Three whole days ago!”
“Ouais,” Alex agrees, “three is a lot of days. I am hard to live without.”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” Ryan says, earning himself a smack in the shoulder from Alex.
Kevin ignores them to look around. There are a few new faces, new names on the stalls. He reads them all, frowns, looks again, closer.
Definitely not there.
“Right back…” he says absent-mindedly to Alex and Ryan, who barely even notice. Kevin finds Coach V in his office, knocks on the wall beside the open door.
“Kevin! How’re you?” Coach says, waving him in.
“Hey, I just had a really random question,” Kevin says uncertainly, “remember that AHL guy you said was gonna get called up? The really, really good one?”
“Lapierre?” The name is a sigh; Kevin doesn’t want to know why, he doesn’t.
“Yeah. Didn’t see his name, was just wondering what happened. Real good talent there, you know?”
“Tell me about it,” Coach V sighs, shaking his head. “Really wanted him here.”
“What happened?”
“Beats me. We were all set to offer him a spot and then - gone.”
“Gone? What, the spot?”
“No, him,” Coach says, and Kevin can’t follow this, he can’t. Gone? The last time he saw Lapierre lighting up the arena with that explosion of talent suddenly feels even farther away than it did last season. “He disappeared.”
“Disappeared…?”
“Yeah, damndest thing. Season ended, and he completely disappeared. Left his team, no one’s heard from him since.”
“Oh. That’s… that’s weird,” Kevin manages. How could that be possible, when he just saw Lapierre a season ago, scoring half the goals in the championship game, how could that happen?
“You’re telling me.” Coach pulls out his desk chair, sits and reaches for a clipboard. “It was a disappointment, I’ll tell you.”
“Yeah…”
Disappeared. Kevin can’t quite comprehend it, can’t, because players like that don’t disappear. Players like that become stars, they rise through the ranks and shine. Players like that get to live their dreams, because they’re talented and deserve it.
They don’t disappear.
(next chapter)
Pairing: Bieksa/Lapierre
Rating: Explicit
Notes: hooker!fic
Summary: Kevin Bieksa was looking forward to AHL player Maxim Lapierre joining the Canucks. And then Lapierre disappeared.
Dedicated to: xornej ! This fic would absolutely not exist if it wasn't for you. You've been the best everything for this fic, and I'd never be able to thank you enough. This is for you, because I absolutely love you, and you're the best ever, and you've spent what has to be hundreds of hours talking with me about this fic.
Also dedicated to your partners in crime, because you guys are awesome, even when you're making death threats/coining terms like FB!. Also, your blanket forts rule. Best. Readers. Ever.
The AHL is different. There’s something in the air here that isn’t at NHL games, and Kevin recognises its taste, remembers this. It’s desperation; these are players who are so close to their dream they can taste it. They play with a passion unmatched by even NHL players, play their hearts out every night. Here, every player is on the verge of the greatest possibility he can dream of, and his play is a plea to be counted among the stars.
Kevin loves watching AHL games, loves the showcase of raw talent and drive, the way the exceptional stands out like a beacon.
“That guy is great,” he says, nudging Ryan beside him. Ryan looks over from where he was busy trying to stick his tongue on Alex’s ice cream cone. Really, Kevin doesn’t know why he bothers bringing these two.
“You think they’re all great,” Ryan rolls his eyes. Admittedly, Kevin knows he’d make the worst NHL scout ever; he’d want to let everyone in.
“This is one of my favourites,” Kevin protests. He looks back at the ice; they have second-row tickets because he insists on it, and first row would just be too eager. Not that his companions care; he’s pretty sure Alex is only here for the food, and Ryan’s only here for Alex. He leaves them to their thing during the second intermission; Ryan succeeds in licking Alex’s ice cream, and Alex makes an extremely unhappy sound and curses at him in French.
When the third starts, though, Kevin jerks on Ryan’s sleeve to make him pay attention. “That guy,” Kevin says, “watch him.”
“Which?”
“Number forty.”
Ryan does as he’s told, and Alex even pays attention. Kevin’s seen more than his fair share of the team’s games; he knows who to watch. 40 is by far the most talented player on the team; he skates with an easy adeptness that begs for the NHL stage, handles the puck as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“He’s coming up to play with us, season after this one,” Kevin says, as the audience roars at 40’s goal, a beautiful snipe of a shot.
“Seriously?” Ryan asks, “how can you know that?
“I, uh, asked Coach.”
“Harassed coach,” Alex corrects.
“Since when do you know the nuances between words?” Kevin accuses, sighs when he hears Ryan predictably explain to Alex what nuances means. “So, fine, whatever, maybe I harassed him.” He hadn’t been able to resist; if they were calling up any players, it had to be this guy.
“I can see why,” Ryan allows, watching as play resumes. “He’s good.”
“He’s great,” Kevin says, leaning forward to watch.
“Gonna be a real good addition,” Ryan agrees for once, actually distracted enough by the game that he doesn’t try to irritate Alex anymore at the moment. “What’s his name?”
“Lapierre,” Kevin says. “Maxim Lapierre. Definitely gonna be seeing him in the dressing room next September.”
Lapierre scores the winning goal and the crowd screams with joy, his teammates gathering around him, throwing their arms around him, cheering. It’s like proof that sometimes the world works out just right, that someone this talented will get to live out his dreams.
Kevin can’t wait to call Lapierre his teammate.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When the next season starts, Kevin doesn’t get to go to an AHL game for a while. He’s too busy, spending every moment working towards getting off to a strong start this season. It’s January before he drags Alex and Ryan to a game.
Lapierre’s name is missing from the lineup announcement; Kevin figures he’s out on injury or something, doesn’t pay much heed to it, even though he’s disappointed.
When it happens again, at the next six games he goes to, he starts to get worried.
In a hotel room in March, Kevin ignores the movie Ryan’s watching with Alex in favour of searching online. He starts on the AHL team’s website, clicking through the roster. Lapierre’s name is still there on last season’s roster, a C next to his name.
It’s not on this season’s roster. The C has been given to someone else, and there’s nothing between Lai and Laslow on the list of offense players. He hasn’t been switched to defense, didn’t become a goalie, isn’t listed as injured.
What the fuck? Kevin frowns, goes back to the last season’s roster. He clicks on Lapierre’s profile, but it tells him nothing, just that he started on the AHL team a few years ago, up until last season.
There’s nothing about what happened after last season.
“Whatcha doin’?” Ryan tosses a pillow at his head, and Kevin bats it away.
“Reading, wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he says. Ryan snorts with laughter.
“Dude, you’re missing the greatest zombie movie of all time.”
“You say that about every zombie movie.”
“I mean it this time.”
“Uh-huh,” Kevin mumbles distractedly. Alex starts talking to Ryan then, thankfully; Ryan is so easily distracted by him. Kevin types Lapierre’s name into Google, because maybe he was traded or something.
The most recent thing that comes up is about last season’s championship game. No word about trades, about changing leagues, nothing.
Kevin spends the next three hours digging through all the search results, but nothing comes up. Lapierre is nowhere this season.
Maybe he’s taking a break from hockey, Kevin tells himself, even though that doesn’t make sense, not at all. He’ll be back. He’s being called up to play with us in September.
He’ll be back, Kevin tells himself, he’ll be in the locker room in September.
Every few weeks for the rest of the season, Kevin tries again, but he gets the same result every time. Lapierre carries his team all the way to the top, the headline reads, like Lapierre’s still there at the top, like he got there and just… disappeared.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Coming into the locker room for the first time in September is like coming home, even as it’s like walking into somewhere new. Some things, though, will never change: Ryan’s hanging out by Alex’s stall, Mason’s dangerously close to hitting himself in the face with a soccerball as he tries to juggle it, Chris is taping up a sign that says Canucks only NO ALIENS, NO COWBOYS, NO SQUIDS- NO EXCEPTIONS!!!, Schneider is trying to steal things out of Loo’s stall without him noticing, Bally’s smacking David’s cap off his head.
“Haven’t you antagonised him enough?” Kevin asks Ryan, coming over to his own stall near them. Ryan shrugs.
“Can’t blame me for missing him over the summer,” he says, grinning. Kevin sits before his stall, shakes his head.
“You saw him on Saturday.”
“Three whole days ago!”
“Ouais,” Alex agrees, “three is a lot of days. I am hard to live without.”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” Ryan says, earning himself a smack in the shoulder from Alex.
Kevin ignores them to look around. There are a few new faces, new names on the stalls. He reads them all, frowns, looks again, closer.
Definitely not there.
“Right back…” he says absent-mindedly to Alex and Ryan, who barely even notice. Kevin finds Coach V in his office, knocks on the wall beside the open door.
“Kevin! How’re you?” Coach says, waving him in.
“Hey, I just had a really random question,” Kevin says uncertainly, “remember that AHL guy you said was gonna get called up? The really, really good one?”
“Lapierre?” The name is a sigh; Kevin doesn’t want to know why, he doesn’t.
“Yeah. Didn’t see his name, was just wondering what happened. Real good talent there, you know?”
“Tell me about it,” Coach V sighs, shaking his head. “Really wanted him here.”
“What happened?”
“Beats me. We were all set to offer him a spot and then - gone.”
“Gone? What, the spot?”
“No, him,” Coach says, and Kevin can’t follow this, he can’t. Gone? The last time he saw Lapierre lighting up the arena with that explosion of talent suddenly feels even farther away than it did last season. “He disappeared.”
“Disappeared…?”
“Yeah, damndest thing. Season ended, and he completely disappeared. Left his team, no one’s heard from him since.”
“Oh. That’s… that’s weird,” Kevin manages. How could that be possible, when he just saw Lapierre a season ago, scoring half the goals in the championship game, how could that happen?
“You’re telling me.” Coach pulls out his desk chair, sits and reaches for a clipboard. “It was a disappointment, I’ll tell you.”
“Yeah…”
Disappeared. Kevin can’t quite comprehend it, can’t, because players like that don’t disappear. Players like that become stars, they rise through the ranks and shine. Players like that get to live their dreams, because they’re talented and deserve it.
They don’t disappear.
(next chapter)