Hockey RPF fic bit
Nov. 14th, 2014 01:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
healingmirthLiterally no one asked for this, but then during the Kings game tonight, their organist played a bit of the Harry Potter theme. And I started to think about a story where Jeff Carter decides that the Canadian version of Hogwarts isn't for him, and Mike Richards is a squib. And then I remembered that I completely lack the patience for writing anything where I have to keep track of an actual system of magic, rather than just giving people unexplained powers, so. Instead, I now have a bit of a story where Mike's a telepath - low level, but that's enough to get him barred from competing in professional sports. (This is probably connected to the Sid/Geno story that I started a couple years ago where there the NHL has a psychic potential cap per team in addition to a salary cap. Someday...)
***
Usually Cartsy's thoughts were about an inch deep. It had made him easy to coach, so far. Mike never had to worry that Carts had a mysterious distraction buried six layers under, not like he sometimes did with Stollsy or Kopi.
It's just that Mike's finishing up in the gym when Jeff and Tyler are coming in to lift, and Jeff walks through the door just as Mike gets fed up with how the fabric of their new shirts sticks to his skin.
He'd just grabbed onto the fabric to yank his shirt up and off when the door whooshed open, and he heard, with a clarity rare in even conscious thought, "holy shit." It only took another second to get the fabric clear of his face, and when he did, Carts was still staring at, well, tough to say what, but definitely something well below Mike's face.
Mike didn't clear his throat, or say "my eyes are up here," or throw out any of the other chirps that he might've used with a guy who he'd known a bit longer. Jeff might still turn out to be a problem child, but all that Mike had been able to sense was that he wanted to fit in in the locker room, and the very least Mike could do was not out the dude before he was ready to bring it up.
Jeff just wanted to play hockey, which Mike could appreciate.
***
So, that happened. Maybe I can get back to yuletide now.
***
Usually Cartsy's thoughts were about an inch deep. It had made him easy to coach, so far. Mike never had to worry that Carts had a mysterious distraction buried six layers under, not like he sometimes did with Stollsy or Kopi.
It's just that Mike's finishing up in the gym when Jeff and Tyler are coming in to lift, and Jeff walks through the door just as Mike gets fed up with how the fabric of their new shirts sticks to his skin.
He'd just grabbed onto the fabric to yank his shirt up and off when the door whooshed open, and he heard, with a clarity rare in even conscious thought, "holy shit." It only took another second to get the fabric clear of his face, and when he did, Carts was still staring at, well, tough to say what, but definitely something well below Mike's face.
Mike didn't clear his throat, or say "my eyes are up here," or throw out any of the other chirps that he might've used with a guy who he'd known a bit longer. Jeff might still turn out to be a problem child, but all that Mike had been able to sense was that he wanted to fit in in the locker room, and the very least Mike could do was not out the dude before he was ready to bring it up.
Jeff just wanted to play hockey, which Mike could appreciate.
***
So, that happened. Maybe I can get back to yuletide now.
