Cinnamon and Ice (chapter 1)
Briere/Roy Buffalo Sabres Fanfiction
Summery: I can feel we're loosing him as his thoughts take him. I think that is why I'm so scared.
Comments welcomed and encouraged! : D
=================== Derek Roy's POV=========================
The freshly sharpened blades make a damaging slash through the solid water as the wind rips through my hair, and I can't help but smiling. This is where I want to be… where I've always wanted to be. My job is my passion, and I remind myself of this as my stick touches the ice, skating another lap. God, I love hockey.
I change my pace, slipping between my teammates, watching them intently. They've become my family, my brothers. We rise above challenges by working together. Other teams might have brute strength or endurance, but we win by taking care of each other, fighting for the team, and not for ourselves. I fall in step next to my forwarding companion, throwing a grin his way. At first he doesn't seem to notice, gliding gracefully, the game's weapon clutched in his right hand. His brown eyes are downcast, watching the flaws in the ice streak past. He must have felt my presence because he suddenly jerked up, shifting his gaze to me and adjusting his balance to slide through the turn in the rink. The corners of his pink lips curl upwards, the ghost of a mustache following. Daniel Briere.
"Hey." I said, adjusting the helmet clutched in my right hand. He returns my hello as we reach the next turn and begin skating up the ice. The others have gained several strides on us, but there's no rush. Just a training lap before the real practice begins. We have a game tomorrow on this very same frozen surface, but none of us are particularly worried. Well, the rookies probably are. I notice them skating together, laughing a little at a joke. Probably Jason Pominville again. He's always the life of the party. Turning, I draw my companion into conversation.
Most people talk about the weather, or how they slept the night before, or a recently released movie, but we're different. As we skate, I begin pointing out loose boards, possible hazards, places where the ice seems warmer and slower. He does the same, tapping his stick on flaws in the Plexiglas, mentioning the way a puck bounces in certain areas that he had seen on the television. Our insight is impressive.
A lap and a half later we were all called in. Drills, drills, drills. I slap my helmet on my head, joining the semi-circle of my teammates, Daniel still at my side. Our head coach is at the center, reminding us that wins will put us into the playoffs. No pressure, guys, I feel like joking with the others. We know how much support we have back home, and it will be even more if we get to be in the top sixteen of the nation. Dreams.
“Black and white teams split up. Start your passing drills! I want to see you all doing your best, or we’ll stay on these all day!” Ruff’s voice cuts through all of our thoughts as we quickly split up. He might be a man of many jokes outside the rink, but when it comes down to game time he can’t be anymore serious. I slip one of the black disks from the pile, shoving it up to Maxim before calling to him. He turned quickly, raising his eyebrows before noticing the puck and scooping it up. He tossed it to Daniel who received it softly and slid it my way.
We continued like this, comparing our notes about the rink with Afinogenov’s. He had a few new tricks to point out to us as we began switching it up, breaking the pattern. I had passed the puck to Briere who rocketed it back to me. I bounced it off to Maxim quickly who also whipped it back at me. I struggled a little with this pass, which I probably shouldn’t have, before pushing it back to Maxim and catching my balance. The two had caught me deep in thought about something that I could no longer remember.
“Care to pay attention there, Derek?” The hard Russian accent was more joking than accusing, but I knew I wasn’t on form.
"Oh, I was just thinking about how many opportunities I'm going to have to out shoot you in these next few games." A lie in jest.
"Not like that you're not!" Okay. I deserved that one, but I clench my teeth anyway. All of his jokes were quickly becoming serious in my mind. He knows I know I should be on form! He knows I know we need these wins! He knows I know.... well, he does! I didn't even notice my offensive partner skate up next to me until his glove is on my shoulder.
"C'mon. You know he was kidding." I could hear hints of the French-Canadian accent, diluted from years in the States. I can feel his warmth next to me, and the weight he puts on me to keep himself stationary.
"And I was just joking, too." I grumble. Damn you, Daniel. Damn you for seeing through me.
I hear Lindy call out to our Russian team mate, and he quickly skates away as another training coach informs us to change drills. At first I don't move. Let me just stand here a few minutes more. But, it can only last so long. Danny pushes off of my shoulder, gliding to scoop up the puck before charging into the next drill. I close my eyes, trying to will the annoyance back down before I, too, move forward with my life.
Thank god for my captain.
========================== Daniel Briere's POV================================
"Game time" I can hear myself chant over and over in my head. Down to the wire, but I'm not worried. Of course I should be nervous, but why bother? Why bother when I know we can beat them, as long as we stay focused, and we will. Chris Drury and I have been drilling that into the team's mind since the beginning. Stay focused, stay smart, stay together, and we can take out any team that focus on an individual; a "shining star".
I watch my teammates as we warm up, a few laps around the ice. We're all close... some closer then others of course. The senior members have bonds that are unrivaled. We know each other (hopes, dreams, fears, families...) but we also strive to know the rookies, the new members, even after a whole year of playing with them.
I skate with a group of our new members, all of them just shooting the shit, or laughing at a well placed joke by Jason Pominville. Sometimes even I can't help smiling. It's almost like none of the pressure can get past their smiles and jokes. It relieves me, too. I'm not worried about the next twenty minutes, the next day, or even the next week.
I let my pace slow, slipping behind the group, looking to have some serious thinking time. My attention wanders to the loose boards, chips in the glass, nice places to level the other players. I'm at the back of the group, alone for a few minutes before I feel the presence of someone next to me. I jerk my head up to see Derek Roy watching me out of the corner of his eyes, smiling slightly. I grin back as he greets me. We shift through a turn before he starts reading my mind.
"The ice is slower here then normal." I nod, smiling to myself before responding.
"The boards are also looser then before." He returns the nod, acknowledging my input. Soon we are called in for drills, and Lindy gives us a speech. Don't fuck up, don't get cocky, keep our heads in the game. I basically know the speech since I had been practicing one similar, as has my co-captain Chris Drury. As captains it is our job to set examples and keep the team on the right path. Slowly my eyes drift over to where my teammate is standing, his eyes also showing a little disinterest. Chris Drury.
As I watch him, he turns his blue eyes on me. I throw a grin his way, and he returns it, shifting his balance and shrugging lightly. We both have perfected the art of silent conversation. 'What's up?' I shrug back: 'Not much.' I give a little head bob toward Lindy, trying not to attract attention to myself. He nodded slowly and shrugged again. Yep. same speech we were both preparing to give. It's not over until Lord Stanley's in our mitts. He makes a gesture towards me. I look at him confused for a second before I turned and realize he was signaling at Derek who was standing closely next to me.
He's at about my height, his bright blue eyes staring intently at our head coach, taking it all in. His posture is vertical and strong, his stick clutched tightly in his left hand. Feathers of his loose blond-brown locks stick out below his helmet. His pink lips are taught, but a faint smile pulls at the corners. The intensity around him is amazing. I stare at him for a minute before tossing a questioning glance back to Chris. He shakes it off ('Never mind') and turns his attention back to the speech. Of course I still mind, but I let it float to the back of my brain for the time being.
I don't move as the team splits up, colors separating to different ends of the rink. Chris and I linger in the center, eyes meeting again. I still wear the same confused look, and he remains rather stoic, just staring at me. I square my shoulders, about to ask verbally what he was trying to say, but he chose that moment to turn and push off, waving back and grinning.
"See ya later!" I open my mouth to stop him, but think better of it. I return my mind to the drill and move to my partners, picking up the puck that was slipped my way and pushing it along, easily jumping into the conversation between Derek and Maxim. As the topic moves on, I notice the normal light in Derek's eyes damper, a sure sign his mind is wandering away. I find myself also detaching from the conversation, worried about my teammate. He seems to be doing this more and more frequently, and it's harder to get him focused again. He never tells us what he's thinking about, often times denying he was even thinking about anything. It's kind of nerve racking.
I see Maxim hesitate out of the corner of my eye and I look up. He shifts his gaze from Derek to myself, locking eyes with me, and then back to Derek. Passing on the puck, he looks back at me and gestures to our third. I understand immediately. We need to snap him out of it. Now is not the time for him to be spacing out. Not with all of the pressure on us. He sent the black disk my way and I wound up, pounding it back at him. His head snapped up, the familiar color flooding back into his eyes, body shifting to control the puck and send it off again to Maxim who, taking after me, hammered it back. Derek retracted a few steps but still struggled to stabilize the pass. Immediately I noticed the shame in his eyes. The puck is moved to Maxim who stops it, a grin on his face.
As captain it's my job to confront a player when there is a problem, and I had planned to do that right after practice, but Maxim seemed to have another idea. The Russian can never just let an action speak for itself. It's just not his nature.
"Care to pay attention there, Derek?" I mentally flinch as the blue eyes suddenly darken, Derek's eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, his lips becoming a thin line. I move in to break up what I know is coming, but Roy sets the pace.
Maxim gets the last jab as Derek snarls slightly, showing his mouth-guarded teeth. This could get ugly. What a shitty time for this to start happening. Right when we need to pull together, we're pushing each other apart. I quickly move in, taking Derek's shoulder in my hand, pulling him back a little, and trying to calm the fight with words.
"And I was just joking, too." God is he stubborn. But Lindy stops the impending battle by calling for Afinogenov. I'm a little relieved to say the least. Roy's just wound up tonight. It'll pass by game time, right? This won't affect his speed and mentality any more then it has, right? He'll be back to normal, right? I know I'm asking too much of myself when seeking these answers, but I wish I knew. I wish he would let out one hint of what he's hiding from us. The next drill has started and I give my teammate a pat on the shoulder before pushing myself away. Maybe this is something he's decided to work through on his own. I hope I'm wrong.
Derek Roy.
Summery: I can feel we're loosing him as his thoughts take him. I think that is why I'm so scared.
Comments welcomed and encouraged! : D
=================== Derek Roy's POV=========================
The freshly sharpened blades make a damaging slash through the solid water as the wind rips through my hair, and I can't help but smiling. This is where I want to be… where I've always wanted to be. My job is my passion, and I remind myself of this as my stick touches the ice, skating another lap. God, I love hockey.
I change my pace, slipping between my teammates, watching them intently. They've become my family, my brothers. We rise above challenges by working together. Other teams might have brute strength or endurance, but we win by taking care of each other, fighting for the team, and not for ourselves. I fall in step next to my forwarding companion, throwing a grin his way. At first he doesn't seem to notice, gliding gracefully, the game's weapon clutched in his right hand. His brown eyes are downcast, watching the flaws in the ice streak past. He must have felt my presence because he suddenly jerked up, shifting his gaze to me and adjusting his balance to slide through the turn in the rink. The corners of his pink lips curl upwards, the ghost of a mustache following. Daniel Briere.
"Hey." I said, adjusting the helmet clutched in my right hand. He returns my hello as we reach the next turn and begin skating up the ice. The others have gained several strides on us, but there's no rush. Just a training lap before the real practice begins. We have a game tomorrow on this very same frozen surface, but none of us are particularly worried. Well, the rookies probably are. I notice them skating together, laughing a little at a joke. Probably Jason Pominville again. He's always the life of the party. Turning, I draw my companion into conversation.
Most people talk about the weather, or how they slept the night before, or a recently released movie, but we're different. As we skate, I begin pointing out loose boards, possible hazards, places where the ice seems warmer and slower. He does the same, tapping his stick on flaws in the Plexiglas, mentioning the way a puck bounces in certain areas that he had seen on the television. Our insight is impressive.
A lap and a half later we were all called in. Drills, drills, drills. I slap my helmet on my head, joining the semi-circle of my teammates, Daniel still at my side. Our head coach is at the center, reminding us that wins will put us into the playoffs. No pressure, guys, I feel like joking with the others. We know how much support we have back home, and it will be even more if we get to be in the top sixteen of the nation. Dreams.
“Black and white teams split up. Start your passing drills! I want to see you all doing your best, or we’ll stay on these all day!” Ruff’s voice cuts through all of our thoughts as we quickly split up. He might be a man of many jokes outside the rink, but when it comes down to game time he can’t be anymore serious. I slip one of the black disks from the pile, shoving it up to Maxim before calling to him. He turned quickly, raising his eyebrows before noticing the puck and scooping it up. He tossed it to Daniel who received it softly and slid it my way.
We continued like this, comparing our notes about the rink with Afinogenov’s. He had a few new tricks to point out to us as we began switching it up, breaking the pattern. I had passed the puck to Briere who rocketed it back to me. I bounced it off to Maxim quickly who also whipped it back at me. I struggled a little with this pass, which I probably shouldn’t have, before pushing it back to Maxim and catching my balance. The two had caught me deep in thought about something that I could no longer remember.
“Care to pay attention there, Derek?” The hard Russian accent was more joking than accusing, but I knew I wasn’t on form.
"Oh, I was just thinking about how many opportunities I'm going to have to out shoot you in these next few games." A lie in jest.
"Not like that you're not!" Okay. I deserved that one, but I clench my teeth anyway. All of his jokes were quickly becoming serious in my mind. He knows I know I should be on form! He knows I know we need these wins! He knows I know.... well, he does! I didn't even notice my offensive partner skate up next to me until his glove is on my shoulder.
"C'mon. You know he was kidding." I could hear hints of the French-Canadian accent, diluted from years in the States. I can feel his warmth next to me, and the weight he puts on me to keep himself stationary.
"And I was just joking, too." I grumble. Damn you, Daniel. Damn you for seeing through me.
I hear Lindy call out to our Russian team mate, and he quickly skates away as another training coach informs us to change drills. At first I don't move. Let me just stand here a few minutes more. But, it can only last so long. Danny pushes off of my shoulder, gliding to scoop up the puck before charging into the next drill. I close my eyes, trying to will the annoyance back down before I, too, move forward with my life.
Thank god for my captain.
========================== Daniel Briere's POV================================
"Game time" I can hear myself chant over and over in my head. Down to the wire, but I'm not worried. Of course I should be nervous, but why bother? Why bother when I know we can beat them, as long as we stay focused, and we will. Chris Drury and I have been drilling that into the team's mind since the beginning. Stay focused, stay smart, stay together, and we can take out any team that focus on an individual; a "shining star".
I watch my teammates as we warm up, a few laps around the ice. We're all close... some closer then others of course. The senior members have bonds that are unrivaled. We know each other (hopes, dreams, fears, families...) but we also strive to know the rookies, the new members, even after a whole year of playing with them.
I skate with a group of our new members, all of them just shooting the shit, or laughing at a well placed joke by Jason Pominville. Sometimes even I can't help smiling. It's almost like none of the pressure can get past their smiles and jokes. It relieves me, too. I'm not worried about the next twenty minutes, the next day, or even the next week.
I let my pace slow, slipping behind the group, looking to have some serious thinking time. My attention wanders to the loose boards, chips in the glass, nice places to level the other players. I'm at the back of the group, alone for a few minutes before I feel the presence of someone next to me. I jerk my head up to see Derek Roy watching me out of the corner of his eyes, smiling slightly. I grin back as he greets me. We shift through a turn before he starts reading my mind.
"The ice is slower here then normal." I nod, smiling to myself before responding.
"The boards are also looser then before." He returns the nod, acknowledging my input. Soon we are called in for drills, and Lindy gives us a speech. Don't fuck up, don't get cocky, keep our heads in the game. I basically know the speech since I had been practicing one similar, as has my co-captain Chris Drury. As captains it is our job to set examples and keep the team on the right path. Slowly my eyes drift over to where my teammate is standing, his eyes also showing a little disinterest. Chris Drury.
As I watch him, he turns his blue eyes on me. I throw a grin his way, and he returns it, shifting his balance and shrugging lightly. We both have perfected the art of silent conversation. 'What's up?' I shrug back: 'Not much.' I give a little head bob toward Lindy, trying not to attract attention to myself. He nodded slowly and shrugged again. Yep. same speech we were both preparing to give. It's not over until Lord Stanley's in our mitts. He makes a gesture towards me. I look at him confused for a second before I turned and realize he was signaling at Derek who was standing closely next to me.
He's at about my height, his bright blue eyes staring intently at our head coach, taking it all in. His posture is vertical and strong, his stick clutched tightly in his left hand. Feathers of his loose blond-brown locks stick out below his helmet. His pink lips are taught, but a faint smile pulls at the corners. The intensity around him is amazing. I stare at him for a minute before tossing a questioning glance back to Chris. He shakes it off ('Never mind') and turns his attention back to the speech. Of course I still mind, but I let it float to the back of my brain for the time being.
I don't move as the team splits up, colors separating to different ends of the rink. Chris and I linger in the center, eyes meeting again. I still wear the same confused look, and he remains rather stoic, just staring at me. I square my shoulders, about to ask verbally what he was trying to say, but he chose that moment to turn and push off, waving back and grinning.
"See ya later!" I open my mouth to stop him, but think better of it. I return my mind to the drill and move to my partners, picking up the puck that was slipped my way and pushing it along, easily jumping into the conversation between Derek and Maxim. As the topic moves on, I notice the normal light in Derek's eyes damper, a sure sign his mind is wandering away. I find myself also detaching from the conversation, worried about my teammate. He seems to be doing this more and more frequently, and it's harder to get him focused again. He never tells us what he's thinking about, often times denying he was even thinking about anything. It's kind of nerve racking.
I see Maxim hesitate out of the corner of my eye and I look up. He shifts his gaze from Derek to myself, locking eyes with me, and then back to Derek. Passing on the puck, he looks back at me and gestures to our third. I understand immediately. We need to snap him out of it. Now is not the time for him to be spacing out. Not with all of the pressure on us. He sent the black disk my way and I wound up, pounding it back at him. His head snapped up, the familiar color flooding back into his eyes, body shifting to control the puck and send it off again to Maxim who, taking after me, hammered it back. Derek retracted a few steps but still struggled to stabilize the pass. Immediately I noticed the shame in his eyes. The puck is moved to Maxim who stops it, a grin on his face.
As captain it's my job to confront a player when there is a problem, and I had planned to do that right after practice, but Maxim seemed to have another idea. The Russian can never just let an action speak for itself. It's just not his nature.
"Care to pay attention there, Derek?" I mentally flinch as the blue eyes suddenly darken, Derek's eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, his lips becoming a thin line. I move in to break up what I know is coming, but Roy sets the pace.
Maxim gets the last jab as Derek snarls slightly, showing his mouth-guarded teeth. This could get ugly. What a shitty time for this to start happening. Right when we need to pull together, we're pushing each other apart. I quickly move in, taking Derek's shoulder in my hand, pulling him back a little, and trying to calm the fight with words.
"And I was just joking, too." God is he stubborn. But Lindy stops the impending battle by calling for Afinogenov. I'm a little relieved to say the least. Roy's just wound up tonight. It'll pass by game time, right? This won't affect his speed and mentality any more then it has, right? He'll be back to normal, right? I know I'm asking too much of myself when seeking these answers, but I wish I knew. I wish he would let out one hint of what he's hiding from us. The next drill has started and I give my teammate a pat on the shoulder before pushing myself away. Maybe this is something he's decided to work through on his own. I hope I'm wrong.
Derek Roy.