smile wide. check 'em hard.

     it’s moments like these that will cannot remember a time before ben andrews in his life ( he has friends, of course – the ntdp is as much a cult as it is a development program, u18s and u20s; usa hockey is do or die, you know ). but ben, ben is something else, a new concept when thrust into contrast with old teammates and ever present hockey. and yet he fits, slides in perfectly and will is going to hate to lose him at the end of next year. ( it’s become more than just hockey, somewhere along the line ). “ oh fuck off, benny. ” the words lack all the menace they ought to have, a smile crossing will’s face. it’s not normally like this –will is confident one, the one who smiles at ben and lifts him up after tough losses. that’s his job as his captain, as his friend. it shouldn’t be the opposite way around. “ —you ready to go? ”

     in a way will is a part of a world that will never ever be ben’s -- perhaps at some point it could have been. if his brain hadn’t been so imbalanced, if he didn’t doubt every step he took like it was thin ice about to crack. will is unmistakably nhl bound and ben is proud of him for it ( even as he lets his own dreams of playoff hockey slip through fingers like sand because he knows better ). his parents say they would support him, but he knows they won’t settle for anything less than med school. he supposes he’s happy to have just shared in the light with will even for these past two years -- he’s looking forward to the impending season, he’s not looking forward to it ending. “ yeah. ” ben says, a smile of his own flickering to life, the last dregs of lukewarm coffee tossed back. “ you got more stuff to unpack or you wanna see if we can hit the rink? ”

     will frowns but falls quiet finally – he knows that ben speaks largely to the truth, that the c’s long been made his, that that fact has been placed beyond his control for too long now. ( like draft days and sitting with your heart in your mouth wondering where the fuck you’re going to get up at the end of all this ). “ fine —” he says, “ i guess i believe you. ” it’s said with exaggerated emphasis, a hint of a smile twitching up lips, blue eyes rolling as he concedes.

     “ you guess you believe me? ” oh will. he thinks about reaching across the table, a comforting hand on will’s arm perhaps, but promptly thinks the better of it. he settles instead for more casual words, a hint of a joke perhaps. “ c’mon stop stressing so much over this --- i don’t even know if you were this hung up over it when you were an itty bitty sophomore with the c.” it’s a half lie --- because ben remembers some warm late fall night, the bitterness in the wake of a loss. his own hanging head and how will had settled down next to him with a beer in hand - ‘sometimes i don’t feel like i deserve it, benny. sometimes i wonder how the seniors don’t hate me for it.’

    - he’s just gonna keep knocking, isn’t he? ugh. she all but rolls off her bed and gets to her feet. the door is tugged open just a sliver. “what’s the password?”

     it seems far too long before there’s any response and a less persistant person would have given up. but the door cracks open, finally. “ uh --- selly’s the best? and’s gunna let me in? ”

          “selly ! ” cue incessant knocking. “ --- hey selly, you in there? ” more incessant knocking.

“No, because I put as much stock into what I read online as I do into Perez Hilton and the Kardashians: nothing.”

“ fair point. ” ben shrugs. “ but you can believe whatever you want --- doesn’t change that fact that people do believe it. ”

    will frowns into the depths of his coffee. it’s not that he doesn’t believe ben –the guy’s a lot of things but a LIAR certainly isn’t one of them– it’s just, he thinks ben might be a little biased is all. “ i dunno — it just seems — what if they just voted out of obligation? like, i dunno. ” he hopes he doesn’t sound completely ungrateful for being able to keep the c into his senior year, because really, he’s grateful. so grateful. “ they could’ve – voted riley or — or you.”

     “ riley --- dude you gotta be fucking kidding me. netty plays good d but he’s the worst influence ever, no way in hell he’d ever get the c from you. ” riley bennett with the c. ben almost snorts at the thought. as if. “ look man, stop moping over it --- we picked you because you were the best for the job and because you’ve done us good the past two years. and for the record, i’m sure a hell glad it wasn’t me, cuz you’re always gunna be my captain, okay?” okay maybe that last bit was a bit too sappy for this, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.

     “ do i really need to spell this out for you, mallory? alright then --- there was the time you didn’t drink after we made it to the fucking frozen four because you felt you had to look after the rookies. you are always, always the first one to practice and the last to leave. people look up to you --- they did when you were puny and a sophomore so why would that be any different now when you, you know, have seniority-- ” ben is not amused, but hey, if anyone’s going to have to list out all the qualities that make will mallory an amazing captain, ben’s glad to do it.

grayson hadn’t even realized that he was wearing the damn sweatshirt — this morning was kinda hectic, & he just threw on whatever was on the floor that didn’t desperately need a wash & went from there. it being one of his own ( & actually his own ) or brandon’s was a plausible possibility, not what literally caused the stranger to stop in their tracks. the boston sweatshirt. ❝ oh, uh …. ❞ he stumbled on his words, a hand coming to his chest, rubbing the faded crest in the midst of grey fabric. people didn’t just walk around wearing sweatshirts of colleges they didn’t go to, so this was definitely AWKWARD. he didn’t want to tell him that he wasn’t, but he feared that if he went along with it, then there’d be more questions that he was unable to answer, so he shrugged his shoulders & looked back up. ❝ no, no …. not —— i didn’t go there. it’s someone else’s. ❞

     ben’s rambling again, brown eyes lighting up in playful fondness that will can’t miss or quite ignore as the plastic bag rustles around the take out boxes are removed. he’s right of course, will always seems to buy more take out than he can eat in one sitting ( dinner the next day is always reheated dumplings and lo mein ). yes, will knew ben would pick up on this, no he’s not forgotten that in whatever they where –are– that ben would know this as easily as he knows how he likes to tape his stick. still, he gives ben a playful shove because he can, before mockingly holding hands up in surrender. “ alright, alright, dude. you got me there. you can have some fucking lo mein. ” he can hear the word ( ‘ captain ‘ ) in all its heaviness hanging on ben’s tongue, though, half uttered, half swallowed and overshadowed in bright eyes. will looks away so his face is half hidden in profile, so that maybe the tightening of lips and clenching of his heart isn’t so blatantly obvious. because if there’s ever one thing he can’t ever be to ben again, it’s his captain, his teammate, his idol…

                     ben had once looked at will like he put the sun in his world; maybe now he still does, but for a different reason. ( that comes with loving something you've admired so much --- seeing their flaws among the perfection, seeing them as human and not a god ). will seems content in seattle but he doesn't seem happy and it shows in the little moments like this, a turned head as if he can avoid some imaginary blow. this is a shadow of sorts because ben knows will, knows how he looks when he wins --they win--, when it seems there's nothing in the world that can stop him, and it pains him.