Post Olympic

99 Points but That Wasn't One

alright, this chapter, next chapter, a third, the fourth, the ending, and then the epilogue. 

Here's the schedule:
Thursday: last chance
Monday: date night
Tuesday: moonlight 2
Thursday: wake up 2
Friday: epilogue
February 14th: Plie and Clout launch (sequel babey)

MUSIC: just my type - the vamps

-rabid

******************

Fenrir plays his heart out next game. I mean it. I've never seen the kid play harder. That's probably because he's got 99 points on the season and he's begging for just one more. He just needs that one point. Just one. Just one and he's up there with the top-of-the-league guys. One, he just wants one.

"Fenrir," I stop him before the last period. "I know you want that goal. I know you do."

"I know, I know," He drops his head. "Play for the salsa not for the tomato."

"That's what I was going to say." I tip his chin up with the bottom of Ireland's old stick. "You're playing for the name on the back not the logo on the front. Head up, okay?"

"Yeah, I know, I know,"

"Play for the team, alright buddy?"

"Agh, I just, it's just one and I'm sooo close too." He puts his mitts together and makes a little begging gesture. "I'm like, right there."

"Yeah, yeah, Fen, play for the logo, not for the name. Win it for the program, yeah?"

"Yeah,"

"Alright." He takes a quick sharp breath and then jogs back onto the ice.

"Period three," Hadley mumbles. He's beyond stressed.

"Period three," I confirm. Wolves - 2, Avalanche - 1.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him what he needed to hear, play for the salsa and not for the tomato." I shake my head. "One goal and he's got a hundred."

"One goal and we're up there with the wicked good guys," Hadley mumbles. "But you're right, him hitting one hundred won't do anything to help the team get the cup."

"Yup," I mumble.

There's a roaring in the rink when we step back onto the ice and I'm caught up for a moment at how incredibly powerful that all is. Thousands of people are packed into this building, all screaming for something, cheering for my guys. I have to admit, this is the most stressed I've been in a while. It's a test, one final gigantic test of every single thing I've told these boys over the season. One scary, scary, test.

***

"ONE GAME NICO!" Fenrir laughs. He's standing in my hotel room, half sweaty and pink in the cheeks. "One game, and we could do it on home ice."

"You could," I tap his nose. "But, you could also blow it, and there's that too, don't get your hopes into the ceiling."

"Yeah, yeah" He laughs, getting himself a glass of water. "Or, we could win it, and that would be really cool too."

"How's your stomach, by the way, I haven't asked." He pulls up his shirt, it's red still, but healing well. "Good, knee?"

"Clicks when I don't have it in the brace, but," He bends it. "It works."

I turn my head sideways to give him a better look. "You're not wearing the brace, are you."

"Nope."

"Fenrir."

"Nico."

"Fen."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I should be wearing the brace. It's just so itchy."

I mock him. "iTs jUsT sO itChY," I roll my eyes. "I'm pretty sure having your knees give out at a young age is also itchy."

"Okay, hold on. I'm basically doomed for bodily failure to begin with," He shrugs. "Might as well start here,"

"Fenrir that is not how we think about things." I poke him. "Go get that brace before I bench you,"

He gasps. "You wouldn't,"

"I would,"

"No,"

"Yes,"

"No,"

I mimic calling someone. "Yes, Hadley? I'd like to scratch Fenrir for being a prick and not wearing his knee brace,"

He mimics the same thing. "Hey, Hadley? Can you fire my girlfriend for making me wear my brace?"
"Yes, we're scratching my boyfriend. Uh huh, I don't care that it's finals,"

"You'll fire my wife? Amazing,"

This catches me off guard. "Wife?"

"What?"

"Fen?" I laugh. "Get over here, asshole,"