Hockey Fic - Both Hands Tied Behind My Back, Part 3
Part 2
“Turn on the TV.”
“Eric? It’s 1 A.M., why are you calling me?”
“Marc, I’m serious. Turn on your TV.”
“What the fuck,” Marc said, but he dragged himself out of his bedroom and into the living room to turn on the TV. “What channel?” He hadn’t been asleep anyway - Kris’s message had kept him awake, thinking over what it meant and whether or not he should respond.
“TSN,” Eric said, sounding tense and freaked out. Marc obediently flipped over to TSN and sat down on his couch in shock.
“Eric,” he said, dazed, staring at his TV.
“I know,” Eric agreed, equally dazed. The scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen read: “NHL Commissioner dies in tragic car accident; Crosby and Letang hospitalized.”
“What the fuck,” Marc repeated. “No, seriously, what the hell?”
“I don’t know,” Eric said. “Marc, I have no idea.”
“I’ll call you back,” Marc said, hanging up the phone and calling Kris. He went straight to voicemail. “What the fuck? What did you do? How are you still alive? Call me.” He hung up, dazed, and continued staring at the TV, where the announcers were showing pictures of the crash and talking nervously about what effect it might have on the league. Marc turned the TV off when they started to repeat themselves and sat back on his couch, staring into space. “What the fuck,” he said plaintively, but there was no one in his apartment to answer him.
0o0o0o0o0
Marc watched the media frenzy that followed Bettman’s death and Kris and Crosby’s hospitalization with a weird sense of detachment. During the autopsy one of the coroners had discovered signs that Bettman had been a demon-shell for a while before he died, which just whipped the reporters into a greater froth. No one mentioned anything about Kris Letang being Sidney Crosby’s guardian, or Crosby’s deal, so Marc figured they must have hidden that successfully. It was the only thing on the news for a couple of days (one of the commentators said, sarcastically, that Bettman’s death did more to increase the visibility of the NHL than his entire tenure as commissioner, and speculated that he’d gotten the wrong end of a demon’s deal) and then it died down. There was a brief blurb when Crosby was released from the hospital, but it was like everyone had completely forgotten about Kris. Marc went and scanned a couple of news reports, there were no mentions of him at all besides that he’d “been there at the time,” and that he could not be reached for comment.
Kris never returned his phone call. Marc checked his phone obsessively for a day or so but after that he decided that Kris must have gotten his message by now and decided to ignore it or forgotten about it. So when the doorman called up to his apartment to say that he had a visitor, Marc certainly wasn’t expecting to open the door to find Kris standing in his hallway, looking sheepish.
“Kris?” Marc said blankly. “What are you doing here?”
“I just,” Kris said, looking uncomfortable. “Can I come in?”
Marc waved him into his apartment, too stunned to do anything else. Kris smiled at him tentatively as he came in and Marc smiled back automatically as they came into his living room and sat down. “So,” he said, once they had both settled down.
“Sorry I didn’t call you back,” Kris blurted. He made a hilarious face afterwards, like he hadn’t meant to lead with that, and Marc cracked half a smile looking at him. “Sorry,” Kris said. “I mean, I am sorry that I didn’t call you back, but I’m sorry about a lot of other things too, and I didn’t really mean to lead with that.”
“What did you mean to lead with?” Marc asked, curious.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” Kris said, meeting his eyes clearly. “I’m sorry that I gave up so easily. And I’m sorry for being a coward.”
“And I’m sorry,” Marc said, earnestly. “I’m sorry that I ignored you for so long.”
Kris gave him a wan smile. “You were justified, I think.”
“No,” Marc said. “That was a dick move, and I’m sorry.”
They sat there in awkward silence for a while before Marc cleared his throat loudly. “So what happened?”
Kris shut his eyes, tightly. “I figured out what the deal was. And I fixed it.” His voice was bleak and he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so Marc changed the subject even though he was dying of curiosity.
“Did your wings. . . ?” he asked, and Kris opened his eyes and gave him a real smile.
“Yes,” he said, proudly. “They did. Look-“ he stood up and all of the sudden they were there, just like Marc remembered except that now they were clearly there in a way they hadn’t been before. “Go ahead,” Kris said, smirking, and Marc realized that his hand was halfway outstretched, again, just like the last time he’d seen Kris’s wings.
He didn’t need to be told twice - he reached out and buried his fingers in the feathers. Kris drew a startled breath, and Marc looked up at him quickly. “This okay?” he asked. Kris’s expression was a little dazed.
“That feels. . . “ He swallowed, hard, and Marc had a hunch and brought up his other hand and buried that in Kris’s wing as well. Kris shuddered and shut his eyes. “Don’t stop,” he said, and he sounded wrecked. Marc almost drew his hands back.
“I thought,” he said, confused. “But aren’t guardians-“
“Fuck the rules,” Kris said, eyes still closed. “They’re really more like guidelines anyway.”
“Did you just quote Pirates of the Caribbean at me,” Marc asked, disbelieving, but a crazy grin was overtaking his face. “Really?” he asked, quieter, and Kris looked up at him.
“Really,” he said, and Marc used the hold he had on Kris’s wing to draw him in closer and lean down for a kiss. Kris came willingly, pushing up into the kiss and moaning. That lasted several long minutes before Marc broke away.
“No, seriously, how did you do it?”
“You want to know this now?” Kris demanded, trying to chase his mouth. “It cannot wait?”
“If I don’t know I’ll just be distracted wondering,” Marc pointed out, ignoring the look that Kris gave him, which suggested that Kris was offended that he thought he could be distracted. Kris sighed heavily and sat down, folding his wings behind him. They slid right through the couch again, and Marc stared, trying to work out what was going on before snapping his eyes up to Kris’s face when he cleared his throat pointedly.
“I thought you wanted to hear my story,” Kris said snarkily, but one corner of his mouth was tipped up in a smile. Marc nodded vigorously and folded his hands in his lap. Kris rolled his eyes and began.
“It took me a while to work out the terms of the deal,” Kris said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Sid was avoiding me like the plague and still wouldn’t tell me anything. I was tired of it, and I was afraid for him, especially when they started taking blood more and more frequently, without even games as an excuse. So I stole his phone and called his sister.”
“You what?”
“Stole his phone and called his sister. They’re very close, and if there anyone was going to know what was going on with him it would be her.”
“So did she know?”
“No, but she did fly down and help me interrogate him. He folded pretty much immediately after that - wish I’d thought of it sooner.”
“So what was his deal?” Marc asked, and Kris closed his eyes wearily.
“It was all a bit complicated, especially since Sid didn’t understand what was going on, but I managed to work it out eventually. His father made a deal, once upon a time - his soul for a legacy. The problem with that is that is that you’re making deals with demons - they aren’t going to just grant your wish in return for what you promised them. So his father thought that the terms of the deal were voided by the fact that he never got to play in the NHL, but really the demon took his deal and fulfilled it by making sure that Sid got all the talent and the opportunities to really leave a mark on the NHL. That’s what a legacy is, if you’re being really specific - your children and grandchildren. But Sid’s dad didn’t know that when he was making the deal, and didn’t realize until it was too late.”
“But what did that have to do with Crosby?”
Kris made an irritated motion. “Sid is an idiot. The demon came calling to collect his father’s soul, Sid happened to overhear the conversation and tried to make a trade - himself for his father. The demon took the trade, and started having Sid drained. The thing was,” he said, looking exhausted, “is that you can’t make changes to an existing deal. And demons are not allowed to take something for nothing. It’s against their rules.”
“Demons have rules?”
“Demons do have rules - or rather, deals have rules, and demons can’t break them. They try - oh, do they ever try. They’re demons, after all. But if you catch a demon breaking the rules, any deals that demon has made can be revoked.” Kris smiled, grimly. “Not that they’ll let you do it without a fight, but.” He shrugged. “That is what guardians are for. So I summoned the demon and revoked his deals. It was not pretty.”
“But then the car crash?”
“It’s. . . harder for demons to access all of their powers when they’re in motion,” Kris said. “Harder for any supernatural creature, actually, no one’s really sure why. But obviously this was a powerful demon, so I thought it best to shackle him as I could. The car crashed because I finally managed to revoke his deals, and the backlash spun the car out of control.”
“How did you and Crosby survive?” Marc asked, because he had seen the pictures - the car had spun out right in front of an 18-wheeler and been utterly destroyed. It was hard to imagine how either of them could have survived that collision.
“That was me,” Kris said. “I used the backlash to throw Sid and I out of the car just before we got hit. We weren’t actually in the car when it crashed.”
Marc whistled. “Impressive,” he said, smirking, and Kris gave him a hot look.
“That’s not the only thing about me that’s impressive,” he said, and Marc’s throat went dry even as he scoffed.
“Big talker. Prove it.”
“Happy to,” Kris purred, coming over to straddle Marc’s lap. Marc’s hands settled themselves on Kris’s hips instinctively and he pulled him even closer.
“So now that you’ve finished your Crosby assignment-”
“It’s not over yet,” Kris interrupted him. “I don’t think it’ll be over until he retires, actually. And then I can pick my own next assignment.” He grinned down at Marc. “You’re stuck with me, Staal.”
“Oh the horror,” Marc said, and Kris cut him off with a kiss.