***Stevie's POV***

Everyone, get out your tape recorders now, because you might not ever hear me say this again.

Shanny was right. For once in the six years we're been teammates, he was actually right about something. And he sure picked a hell of a thing to be right about. I've spent the last four days thinking about what happened in the coffee shop. I have analyzed every word, every gesture, every moment. I can only draw one conclusion.

I, Steve Yzerman, am in love. With a teammate. With a teammate who I have no business being in love with. With a teammate who I could very possibly hurt by loving. And I can't stop, I can't shut it off. When I told Shanny that this was all out of my control, I had no idea how right I was. I don't like not being in control of the situation. But isn't the nature of love being out of control? Aren't relationships the ultimate exercise in giving up control over your emotions and your well-being and your heart to someone else?

Listen to me, I'm getting all philosophical over this. I'm trying to figure out why I can't figure out what's going on. Isn't that sad? Sometimes I wish I could just stop worrying about all the possibilities, all the things that MIGHT happen, and just relax. I can't though, I've been in the leadership mindset for too long now. I've spent almost as much time being a captain as I've spent not being one. I can't just let go.

But maybe...maybe it's worth a try? Maybe I should just take a chance and just do something spontaneous. Maybe I should ask Boyd if he'd like to do something sometime and not worry about the fact that I might not be able to be what he needs. Maybe it would all turn out ok.

Right. And maybe after that, pigs will fly and hell will freeze over and all the Wings and all the Avalanche will join hands in the middle of Joe Louis Arena and sing "We Are The World".

So, if I have officially eliminated spontaneity from my list of possible options, what am I supposed to do? The first answer that comes to mind is to just be Boyd's friend, like I said I wanted to do. Hence why I have asked to talk to him.

We're standing alone on the ice, looking at each other. "So," Boyd says nervously, "what do you want to talk about?"

I try to smile cheerfully at him. It falls flat. "I didn't so much want to talk to you as I wanted your help."

He blinks. "Do you want me to set up more teammates? Because if so, I'm not sure we can have the same success we did with Shanny and Dandy..."

I laugh. "No, no. I want you to do some passing drills with me. I tried to do some during practice, but everyone keeps going easy on me, like they think I'm going to fall apart on them."

"And you think I won't?" Boyd looks terrified, like I've asked him to do complex brain surgery or something similarly difficult.

Again, I try to put reassurance in my smile. "I'm going to make sure you don't."

We start trying some drills and I can't help but notice that Boyd is terribly terribly stiff. He looks like a rookie in his first game, paralyzed with nervousness. I shrug it off, hoping that as we move along, he'll get more comfortable.

However, he doesn't. In fact, he seems like he's getting more and more tense, to the point where it's even starting to get to me. I shoot the puck at him, he misses, and the puck goes sliding all the way to the other side of the rink. For an instant, I see utter panic in his eyes. "I'll get it!" he exclaims, and starts down the ice, skating at top speed to retrieve the puck.

"Wait! I have more pucks, we can get that one later!" I call, but it doesn't stop him.

He finally returns, flushed a dark red. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

I shake my head. "It's ok, everyone misses a puck now and again." He's still trembling and I lay my hand on his shoulder. "Boyd, it was a puck. Don't worry about it."

It doesn't seem to help. He sighs. "But...I mean, that could have been during a game. And then the other team would have it, and..." He takes a deep breath. "I've just been missing too many passes lately."

Ok, where is this coming from? "Look, it's not like anyone else is doing any better. Everyone's game has been down. It's not just you that's been having problems."

"Yeah, I know, but..." I swear, if he weren't on skates, he'd be scuffing his foot against the ground.

"But what?" I ask, moving closer to him. "What's bothering you?"

He looks down. "I just don't want to look stupid in front of you."

Oh cripes. "Right, because I don't ever miss passes?"

He keeps looking away, and I see him start to chew on his lower lip. "It's different."

I try not to get frustrated. "How is it different?"

"You....you've already proved a million times over how incredible you are. I...if I keep playing this badly..."

"Hang on," I cut him off. "Look, I haven’t had much else to do over the past month besides watch hockey, and I can tell you that you are NOT playing badly. Not at all." I touch his chin, tilting his head up so that he's looking at me. "You're doing great. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Ok?" His eyes focus on a point somewhere past my head, and I can see them getting watery. His lip trembles, and a thought runs through my mind- he's beautiful when he's vulnerable like that. I squash the feeling down, then ruffle Boyd's hair gently. "Is something else bothering you?"

He shakes his head. "It's just that..." he sniffles, and I think my knees get a bit weaker, "It's just that I want to be worthy of being here. I don’t want to be the kid with the concussion just tagging along..."

It kills me that he won't believe me. I grab his face in my hands and tilt it so that we're staring into each other's eyes. "You are worthy of being here. You have contributed so much to this team, both in your own right, and with helping out Datsyuk. Don't ever think for a moment that anyone thinks you're just tagging along." We are eye-to-eye, and I see a tear spill down his cheek. Without thinking, I move my thumb to wipe it away. He shivers a bit under the touch....

And the next thing I know, our lips are pressed together, my hands have moved down to Boyd's arms, then to his shoulders. After a moment, he pulls away, and I see a full range of emotions pass across his face- confusion, joy, fear, and finally anger. Anger? "Don't...I don't want you taking pity on me," he whispers.

What? Where was this coming from? "I'm not taking pity on you!" I protest.

He backs away from me, shaking. "I don't need your pity. I don’t want you to...to just feel sorry for me. I think you made it very clear that you weren't interested, and I don't need you to change that just because...because you think I'm some poor baby who will curl up and die without you."

I knew it. I knew this would turn out badly. But there's not much I can do about it now, is there? I move towards him. "Boyd, this isn't pity, I swear to you. This has been coming for a long time...since February. Since before I even knew."

He blinks, looking lost and confused, and all I want to do is hold him. "What are you talking about?"

I close my eyes and sigh. "I noticed you watching me in February, and...and that sort of got stuck in my brain. Shanny was teasing me about it even back then, but I just ignored him." I force myself to open my eyes. Boyd still looks stunned, and I curse myself a million times over for not having more self-control. "Boyd, I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I should have thought more before I kissed you, but I promise you that it wasn't out of pity." I swallow. "I genuinely...love you."

Boyd stands there in silence for a moment, his eyes screwed shut, just shaking. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he finally whispers painfully. "Why didn't you say something, give me some kind of clue....I thought that I was so awful, like you could never want me...

I pull him into my arms, and he goes willingly. "I wasn't sure," I tell him. "I didn’t know for sure until a few days ago, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I wasn't sure I could be everything you needed." I stroke his brown hair. "And believe it or not, I was slightly scared myself."

His face is buried in the crook of my neck, and I feel his breath coming in hot gasps against my skin. "But now you know?"

I kiss the top of his head. "Now I know." I continue to hold him. "I had a dream about you once."

He sniffles. "You did?"

I can't help but smile. "Yes, yes I did."

"Was it a good dream?"

I pause. "Well, I didn’t really think so at the time..."

He pulls away to look at me. "Do I even want to know what was going on?"

I feel myself blush. "You were...uhm...you were a lounge singer. And you were singing." I rub the back of my neck. "To me."

"Oh." Boyd looks a bit confused, and then he smiles. On his tear-stained face, it is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "I can't sing, you know."

I grin. "Truth be told, you couldn’t in the dream either."

He glares at me with mock anger. "Oh gee, thanks." But the look fades, and he starts to look like a little kid on Christmas. "So...you really mean it? You...you're sure?"

Am I sure? Am I really sure? "I'm sure that I love you. I'm sure that I will do everything I can to make that love work out. Beyond that, I'm not all that sure of anything."

"Well....that's all I can ask for, I guess." He glances at me shyly, leans forward, draws back again, sighs, leans forward again, and pulls back again. I get the message and capture his lips with my own.

This time it's my turn to break the kiss. "You are aware that this relationship goes two ways, right? Am I always going to have to kiss you first?"

He smiles and blushes. "I'll get it right one day." As if to prove the point, he reaches out for my hands and entwines his fingers with mine. "Stevie? Can we stop practicing now?"

I laugh. "Sure. Come on. Let's hit the showers." I pause. "And I suppose we should tell Shanny and Dandy too, if only to get their gloating over sooner." Boyd giggles as we skate towards the locker room still holding hands. "Hey Boyd?"

He looks over at me. "Yeah?"

"You said something about a poster of me. Do you still have it?"

He blushes. "Yeah, it's still up in my room at my parents' house."

"Ok, good. I was afraid you had it in your apartment here. Because, I'm not sure I would feel comfortable doing anything with you with a big picture of me staring at me." Boyd starts to giggle, and I grin. You know what? I think I'm going to enjoy this.

You're essentially an employee and I like you having to depend on me
You're kind of a protégé and one day you'll say you learned all you know from me
I know you depend on me like a young thing would to a guardian
I know you sexualize me like a young thing would
I think I like it
-Alanis Morisette, "Hands Clean"

THE END
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Part 19 | Fics