#ficlet

After one inconsequential game, a reporter asks about what Coach Theriault and Hayden think of the future of hockey with their former star player playing with his husband. Theriault says some shitty PR nothing answer laced with so much disdain that Hayden just. can't. take. anymore.

Obviously his team wants him to shit-talk his best friend and de facto brother-in-law who happen to be playing the best hockey of a generation (he will never let Ilya know he thinks this). The reporter obviously is chomping at the bit for a "dissension in the locker room" story that will make his life even more miserable. So, fuck the both of them.

"and how about you Hayden, what do you think about the future of hockey with Hollander and Rozanov?"

"Well, I think they should get on having kids, like surrogacy or adoption of something"

Dead silence, the reporter blinks in confusion. He can feel the glare coming off Theriault burning into the side of his face. He doesn’t turn his head and blithely goes on.

“Yeah, specifically 3 girls. I have 3 girls so if they have 3 girls, we’d have a whole hockey team to start in the pee-wees and get to the PWHL. My Ruby would obviously be a defender. She’d spend her whole life in the box, but she'd be such a good enforcer, especially if she was playing with her sisters.  Jade is sneaky fast, so forward for her. And I know Amber is a baby, but I swear she’s got goalie eyes. My son Arthur is already the peacemaker of the family, so Uncle Shane could start training him up on all the rules so he can be our ref. But Shane and Ilya would have to get themselves another defender and a right or left wing with a center. Yep, that’s the future in hockey I’d love to see with Hollander and Rozanov”

Pointing at things and explaining what they are and how the ship works, lots of awed and appreciative noises are made.

Until one of the visiting Eridians points out a specific item. “And that?”

It’s a strange, circular thing, a xenonite disk mounted upright on some sort of pivot so it can spin freely, but around the edges it has… spokes? Pegs? Sticking out of it, that hit against a stiff flap that would slow down the spinning.

It is also separated into sections decorated with crude etchings of a human and an Eridian.

“Ah,” Grace says.

“That,” Rocky says.

“That’s. Um.” Grace seems somewhat embarrassed. “That’s the sacrifice wheel.”

it starts with them watching a movie, maybe the devil wears prada, and a little way through the movie rocky asks why miranda has two names. is it because she's more important?

grace, already anticipating a long conversation, says no, all humans have two names. everyone's just scared of miranda because her two names are really well known.

"grace have another name and not tell rocky?!" rocky asks, incensed. "what names mean, question? why two?"

"well," grace explains, "your first name is the name your parents give you at birth. usually people call you by your first name, especially if you're close. except in... some situations, i guess," he says, remembering stratt's vat. nobody had called him ryland there, but he still felt pretty close to all of them.

"and second name?" rocky prompts.

"right - last names correlate to your family. when you're born, you take your family name so that people know who you're related to. it also helps differentiate between two people with the same first name."

"so what grace last name, question?" rocky asks. grace blanches a little.

"uhh... grace is my last name, rock," he says, sheepishly.

"what?!" rocky yells. grace winces. "grace not tell rocky grace first name? grace not close with rocky? grace hate rocky?"

"no!" grace protests. "of course i don't hate you! don't say that!" maybe it's stupid, but grace does actually feel a little hurt by the insinuation.

"then why not tell rocky?!"

grace sighs. "i don't know, rock. i mean - when i met you i barely knew up from down, much less what my name meant to me. and i kept getting these memories and everyone kept calling me grace, and i just, i haven't been called ryland in so long it doesn't really feel like my name anymore."

rocky ruminates on this for a moment. then: "...ryland is grace first name, question?"

"yeah."

"rocky like grace better." grace deflates with relief. "yeah, me too, buddy."

"but," rocky says, "rocky want last name too now."

huh. okay, then.

"i guess i could figure that out," grace agrees. "we could give you movie rocky's last name? you wanna be rocky balboa?"

"mm, no," rocky says.

"okay, well we could go region based, i guess. where'd you grow up? i can make up something fitting, or i can look something up on my computer, i'm sure there's places on earth that are similar to places on erid -"

"no," rocky interrupts. "want grace."

"...huh?"

"rocky want grace last name."

grace is suddenly feeling very, very flushed. "you what??"

"last name is family name, question?"

"well, yeah, but -"

"and rocky grace family now. so rocky want grace family name!"

...well, when he says it like THAT, it's so much more innocent. grace... well, he agrees, because what else is he gonna say? that rocky should know that that that's as good as a marriage proposal?

no, that takes too much cultural context, and a longer conversation than he wants to have right now. easier to just let rocky have it. it's not like there'll be any consequences to bite him in the ass, right?

but then. okay, a few years ago, hayden had asked if shane wanted to go to pride with him and jackie. shane had said no. no big deal. shane says no to most invites to loud, sweaty, places where he might have to say hi to fan or eat processed food.

shane hollander is not homophobic.

then again. shane hollander never fights. he certainly doesn’t instigate. but he had. he had swung on scott hunter after the end of play. at the time, hayden had asked shane why he picked a fight with scott hunter of all people (a lot of people called shane boring & uptight. hayden had always thought this was really unfair because shane was secretly very funny. he just didn’t like strangers. as far as hayden could tell, hunter was actually boring & uptight, but he got away with it because his play was so inconsistent it gave the illusion of him being interesting).

so the fight was weird. what was weirder, is how shane bristled and mumbled something about the fight being “personal” and “the principle of the thing.” hayden chalked it all up to stress. until now, as he sits, listening to scott hunter accept his mvp award, as the first out gay NHL player.

Blue, gaudy, and bedazzled.

When he showed up to the manor with it, he made sure to strut in front of Jason and pretend he didn’t care that his little brother was practically fawning over how cool he looked.

The moment Bruce came into the room, Dick was expecting a huge confrontation and a yelling match, like his friends had all said would happen.

Instead, Bruce lit up and smiled at Dick before leaving the room in a hurry.

Jason and Dick exchanged confused glances before Bruce came back holding a picture and beaming proudly.

The picture is of teen Bruce with a whole bunch of piercings, looking like an ethereal vampire. Snake bites that made it look like he had fangs, industrial, lobe, septum, bridge, etc. Just a lot.

The boys are slack-jawed at their Dad looking like that while Bruce is fondly telling him about all the piercings he had and how he wished he had more, but Alfred wouldn’t let him

“I also had a belly piercing. Ollie convinced me to get that one back at boarding school.” Bruce said wistfully, reminiscing about his intense goth era when he didn’t have to worry too much about public perception.

Dick is mortified because for more than half a second he actually thought his Dad was super cool again. Jason is ooh-ing and awe-ing at the picture.

like they made a really dumb bet while competing and ilya really didn't think he'd lose and honestly shane also didn't think he'd win lowkey but like, hey, a bet's a bet, alright? so now they're trying to be so serious but they can't stop laughing at each other and chirping. shane follows ilya into the shower and gives wayyy too many douching instructions and ilya is like hollander i know you are internationally ranked gay bottom but i can clean my own asshole and shane is like well first of all i'm not internationally ranked and ilya goes no? but what about our honeymoon, and all those times in america, they do not count as international? and shane says okay maybe shut the fuck up. i have the experience here okay, just do what i'm telling you! and ilya says yes bottom coach, right away bottom coach, and they have to slightly delay the fucking process again because it caught shane off guard enough that he almost slipped a little bit because he was laughing too hard and lost his balance.

and finally they GET out of the fucking shower and ilya is laying on the bed on top of his towel and shane is like well? are you not going to make this easy on me? because his legs are crossed over at the ankle and ilya gasps dramatically, hand to his chest. i cannot believe this, shane. you think i'm easy? i should be spreading my legs for you whenever i see you? and shane who absolutely does kind of do that is like okay you asshole i am going to make you regret that so once again they just end up wrestling on the bed (sturdy enough to take this kind of roughhousing, because their first one hadn't survived it) and shane is kind of humping his dick at ilya's hip from where he's ended up pinned under him and then when ilya arches an eyebrow at him he's all OKAY YES i GOT IT and rolls over to grab the lube. ilya takes advantage to grope his ass and shane is half arching his back before he ends up swatting his side because the bet, come on. and shane is finally fingering ilya but ilya is kind of backseat driving the topping and shane is like. ilya do you want me to fuck you or not because i swear to GOD and ilya goes okay, okay, don't blame me! i am the top expert, yes? i have the fucking experience, i can be your dick coach here! and they're both trying not to laugh again at fucking dick coach and shane has notched the tip of his dick in and only sunk in a little when the though hits him and he goes, out loud, ilya goddamnit i'm going to be thinking of this when we see coach wiebe tomorrow! and ilya laughs so fucking hard that shane slaps at his side again, ilya don't laugh! i just got you to loosen up for me! and ilya says oh i'm sorry is my tight ass too much for you to handle? and shane comes too soon but he ends up blowing ilya and rimming him after because after ilya's come he tries to pull away and ilya slings a leg over him and says where do you think you're going, hmm? clean up your mess.

“Yes, hello. Umm, you know the crazy knife-wielding guy that’s been all over the news?”

“Yes, Sir? Do you have information for us?”

“Uh… yeah. Last seen about a block away from the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. He’s about 5’11, wearing all black clothes, but his hoodie has a red circle in the middle, kinda smells like moldy cheese, and his weapon is actually a six-inch serrated knife.”

The dispatcher on the other line paused. “Sir.” She said gently, her words soft and slow. “How do you know this? Are you okay?”

Dennis pauses and takes a moment to answer. “Oh… he got me.”

“He… got you?” Furious typing on her end. “Sir, does that mean you’ve been stabbed?”

Dennis nodded before remembering this was a phone call, and she couldn’t see him. “Yup. Twice cause I wouldn’t go down after the first one. No biggie. Ha.” He immediately regrets trying to make a joke and laugh, his side burning in a way he’s never felt before.

As he shuffles through the alleyway, his foot accidentally hits a metal trash can, causing a loud bang that reverberates painfully through his skull.

“A-are you moving? Please try to stay in place if you’re in a safe area! And-“

“Put pressure on the wound, I know, I’m a doctor.” Whitaker interrupted, wincing slightly from not only the debilitating pain but from how egotistical that sentence sounded.

“Sir-“

“Don’t worry, I actually work in the ER, so I’m just gonna walk myself over there.” Dennis tries to reassure the lady, taking a moment to pause and lean against the side of a building. All the movement he was doing was really increasing the burn; it didn't help that he had to put himself in more pain by putting pressure on the wounds.

“It’s funny cause I just got out of work and the only reason I’m walking is cause my roommate has a date and couldn’t drive me. My roommate also works with me, by the way… I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Sir, please wait until I call an ambulance for you-“

“Oh no, thank you!” Dennis quickly said. “I can barely afford new clothes, an ambulance would put me under way faster than my stab wounds.”

That was kinda funny, even if it was the truth.

“Okay… I can see the ER, so I’m gonna hang up now. Umm, thank you for…” Dennis grunted, his words slurred slightly. He was too tired to continue speaking, his vision starting to blur around the edges, and his entire body was buzzing unnaturally.

He hung up his phone, his ears ringing too loudly to understand what the dispatcher was shouting from the other side, and stumbled through the ambulance bay.

It was an honest miracle that Dennis managed to stumble his way to the Hub, a trail of blood following his every stumbling step. His side no longer hurt, but his hand was getting numb from trying to press on two separate stab wounds.

Oh, looks like Robby was still doing the handoff to Jack. His boyfriends' looked so cute talking to each other, even if he couldn’t really make out their faces, and their bodies looked wiggly. And Dana was also there? It was getting hard to tell the different-sized blobs apart.

It looked like the day shift was still there, which made sense. Dennis did make sure to leave a little earlier for his walk home.

Suddenly, a blob that suspiciously sounded like Trinity but was underwater rushed toward him just as his body was giving out.

“Sorry… got… stabbed.” Dennis groaned, blood suddenly bubbling up past his lips. Shit, an injury to his lung. That was not ideal in the slightest.

“Hey, Whit, stay with me, man.” Dennis blinked, surprised by the sudden appearance of Langdon right before him. He could’ve sworn it was only Trinity around him. Now there are so many familiar blobs.

Mel, Mohan, Donnie, McKay, and even Victoria happened to be there. Which was weird cause he was only 23% sure night shift would have already started. Or maybe not. Time was slipping away from him.

He blinked again, and suddenly Dana was holding his hand, gently cupping his cheek and looking down at him with a strained smile. He could feel his body moving, so he must’ve been on a gurney.

Another blink.

Robby and Jack never looked good when they worried; it was his least favorite expression from them. He gurgled, wanting to reach out to them, but his body wasn’t responding.

“Shh, baby.” Jack turns and immediately comes to his side, Robby following seconds later. “You’re gonna be okay. Everyone’s gonna take great care of you. You've got some pretty hefty damage going on.”

“We’re gonna have to intubate you, love.” Robby’s voice sounded rough, as if he were doing the best he could to stop himself from crying. “You’re gonna be okay, you’re our fighter, Den.”

“I’m so sorry, Dennis.” Oh. Trinity was also there. Why was she crying? She hates crying.

“I-I should’ve just driven you. Fuck-! I’m so sorry. You better fucking wake up after this, you hear me? I’ll never fucking forgive myself if you don’t.” Dennis could feel light pressure on his hand; maybe Trinity was squeezing it, and he did his best to squeeze back.

Trinity let out a soft, wet laugh, feeling the light flutter of his hand trying to reciprocate, before looking up at the two attendings and nodding.

Dennis felt a small prick before exhaustion took over. Anesthesia before intubation. He was going under. He was getting put on oxygen because one of his stab wounds, or maybe both, pierced his lung and caused damage. He was going to have intensive surgery.

Fuck, he really hoped he would wake up.

it started because bruce said “maybe go to college” and dick heard “develop a new personality and flee the country”. next thing anyone knows he’s in romania qualifying for men’s artistic gymnastics under a fake name. the funniest part is he’s the adopted son of one of the most photographed billionaires on earth. “who is this mysterious gymnast? 😍” would last approximately six minutes before anyone chronically online goes “?? isn't that??? richard grayson???”. (it is quite literally the worst-kept open secret in history). (the fake name didn’t last very long).

and still, everyone pretends it’s normal. like, yeah. of course the acrobat heir to the wayne empire ran away to do elite gymnastics on a global stage. that tracks.

except the olympic committee is sweating through their suits because how do you deal with someone who is

a global celebrity and established philanthropist

actually qualified athletically

also somehow immune to media training

because dick will just casually give post-routine interviews like: “i train about 6 hours a day, plus core, flexibility, patrol… uh, patrolling my thoughts :) mental patrol. positive patrol. yeah.” the press laughs because they think he’s joking. bruce is at home gripping the armrest and tearing out his hair

they try to put him through media prep because they want gotham to have SOME good press but dick just does not get the memo. like he genuinely believes he’s nailing it while saying things like: “yeah no, i don’t really get nervous. i just pretend i’m vaulting over a burning car haha.”

fans are making thirst edits, sports analysts are crying, and every commentator opens their segment with “yes, that richard grayson.”

and every time he does a routine, there’s always like one move that’s not illegal so much as “the FIG code of points literally does not know how to categorize that.” the judges just quietly agree to let it slide because there is no rule that says “the gymnast may not perform a vigilante-adjacent aerial manoeuvre.” and through all of it dick is genuinely just trying his best and being stupidly sincere and uncompetitive like “i’m just grateful to be here :)” while absolutely assassinating the scoreboard.

clark interviews him once for the olympics broadcast (good ol’ “family friend” nepotism) and is sweating the entire time because this is his most globally televised story yet like do not mention batman. do not mention acrobat double life. do not mention chasing a dude off a train last tuesday.

and dick just smiles like sunshine and says “i don’t really believe in limits. b says pain is temporary and so is death if you have the right connections” and clark nearly chokes on-air.