Disclaimer: Hello and welcome to my fic. Why I chose the Mighty Ducks, I ... have no idea. Just felt like it lol. So, it's slash. And just to let you all know, there are original characters ... well ... kinda. I borrowed the cast of Stick It, more less. Frank, Poot and Hailey are from Stick It. IMDB it to see what they look like. Why did I steal them? 'Cause I could. I know the movie Stick It doesn't take place in Chicago, but what ever Dean does and it's fic! The character of Alana and Dean's parents are made up by me. There. Law suit taken care of. So, enjoy!

Of Enforcers and Cake-Eaters.

Chapter 1

Dean Portman was never good at understanding things. School he actually was. Oddly. He actually did quite well if you could believe it. Well, it was either bomb at his school work and not play hockey, or do decently and get to play. What was it going to hurt to read a text book or two if it meant getting to play and body checking a few rival douche bags in to the side board? And he would have. If Bombay hadn't decided to bail. Seriously un-cool. It wasn't the real reason though. In a way he was kind of glad Bombay F-ed off. It gave him an out. A believable lie to shield the truth. And really, Dean had a rep for being a childish ass, so for him to pull a stunt like that, giving a big F-You because Bombay pissed off, was not unlike him. Just typical Dean being a immature dick. And he was fine with that.

He figured so anyway. The lie would be a lot easier to get over than the truth. Or maybe he had it all wrong. Maybe he wasn't giving his friends enough credit. Maybe he was pre-judging them, assuming that they were going to be a bunch of judgmental jerk-offs that would need to be punched out one by one. It made him seethe and fume. He actually put a hole in his wall over it. He had made such good friends, the best. He had never had a best friends, never mind a whole team of them. One was like the brother he never had. Well, he did actually have a brother, older, Alex, tool-bag … but that's another story. Fulton was better, cooler, more awesome. Not a tool-bag, über-conservative, ass hat like Alex. They we're like family. And he didn't want to loose them by telling them this one little thing. It made him even more angry that all of this made him feel the one thing he hated most.

Dean James Portman, the enforcer, the tough guy, the muscles, the rebel, was scared.

Why?

Dean James Portman, the enforcer, the tough guy, the muscles, the rebel, was gay.

He had realized it when he went home in the off season after the team USA match. He had spent a lot of time with a girl he was friends with in Chicago. She had been a friend of his for a while, and was excited to hear all about Team USA and the Ducks. Her name was Alana Beck. She was smart, funny, pretty as hell and sweeter than ice cream. She was petite and curvy, her hair was long and dark falling in soft curls down her back. Her eyes were a bright blue, like tropical sea water. When he had told Fulton about her during the season, Fulton said he was a lucky S.O.B and that when he got back he needed to get with her before he came to Chicago and scooped her up. So he did. And it was great.

They had went on lots of dates. Tons. They cuddle when the watched movies and held hands everywhere they went. And they kissed. Often. That part was … ok. Dean hadn't liked it as much as he thought he would have. It wasn't bad, she kissed just fine, it wasn't wet and sloppy or dry and tight lipped, it was just fine. It just felt weird in general. And he could tell there was something missing, something he wasn't feeling that he was suppose to. Alana, he could tell, felt it. He could tell by the way she'd breath, raspy, gasping breaths. The way her skin would warm instantly yet goose bump at the same time. And by the way she would squirm when thing got really heated. He felt none of that. He never did. He had kissed a couple of girls when he was younger and didn't really think it was all that great. He just figured though that it would get better over time. It never did.

Then came the night Alana wanted to go all the way. Every teenage boy's dream. Dean was actually excited, he was going to loose his virginity. Wait till Fulton hears about this! So he did. Or, rather he tried. It was a disaster. Granted the first time is more less always awkward, this was above and beyond. When they started kissing, touching and taking off each other's clothes, his excitement was dwindling fast. When he removed her bra and looked at her breasts, the fist live pair of naked breasts he'd ever seen, he though they we're weird and didn't really want touch them. Putting his mouth on then was even more out of the question. Then the rest of the clothes came off. He was half, well, into it, so to speak, at best. He was trying so hard to want it, to do it to touch her. He tried touching her, down there. It felt, unpleasantly, wet. The complete opposite of what it was suppose to feel. He wanted to scream. This was how it was suppose to feel, what a girl's sex was suppose to be like . Warm, wet, and inviting. Instead it felt, warm, weird, and disgusting. Needless to say, it put the complete kibosh on what very little he was sporting.

Between the anger, tears and mess of it all, Dean wasn't surprised that over a week had gone by without hearing from Alana. He was hurt, mad and disappointed but not overly shocked considering the mess of their night together.

He was hanging out at his friend Frankie's house a lot after that. It was fun, Frankie was a fun guy. Always smiling and happy. The kid was built like Dean and just as tall. He had the face of a baby, very sweet, big smile and warm blue eyes. His curly blond hair, usually hidden under a sideways ball cap, added to his baby face. He reminded Dean of a cherub sometimes.

So here he was at Frankie's, sitting on the floor at the end of the bed beside him, watching Frankie play some shoot 'em up video game. Or at least that what Frankie started playing. Dean was so lost in thought that when Frankie asked what he though of the cool weapon his character had, a basher sword or beater sword or something that Dean really didn't hear, he never even noticed that Frankie changed the game to some Japanese made fantasy thing where the weapons were futuristic and the men looked like women. That was the point where Frankie paused the game and turned to Dean. It was a conversation that he's never forget.

"So what do you think of this sword! Pretty sick huh? The Buster sword is most awesome!"

Dean wasn't listening. He had been staring blankly at the television screen for the last hour.

"Yo, Deanie, you there?" Frankie asked, jabbing Dean in the shoulder.

Dean jumped at bit and turned to Frankie. "Ah … huh, what'd you say?"

"I said, what do you think of my weapon?" repeated Frankie.

"Oh, uh, it's cool. How do you shoot with it?" Dean replied still not paying full attention.

Frankie raised and eyebrow. "Shoot with it? It's a sword. It's Cloud's Buster sword. I'm playing Final Fantasy 7."

Dean actually looked at the television and blinked. "You are? Oh. Sorry."

Frankie gave a small laugh. "Yeah, dude, I stopped playing Splinter Cell like, 15 minutes ago. Where have you been?"

Dean sighed and looked down. "Sorry. Guess I'm on another planet or something."

"I'll say." Frankie replied. "So, what's wrong?"

Dean, still staring at the floor, just muttered. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Liar. Dude, you're a total gap star. What's up? You know you can tell me anything." Frankie said, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

And the truth was, he could. Frankie might have been a clown and a goof off, but he was always easy to talk to. And Dean really wanted to talk to someone.

"Ok." Dean started. "But if you laugh, I'll rip your arms out of their sockets and beat you to death with them."

"I promise I won't."

"And if you tell anybody … I'll bring you back to life and do it again."

"Cross my heart dude."

Dean gave a very small smile. "'Cross my heart'? You sound like a girl. What are you going to do next, pinkie promise me?"

Frankie, straight faced, held out his pinkie. Dean gaped, shook his head and hooked his pinkie to Frankie's.

"There." Frankie said. "Now that all the legal matters are dealt with, what's going on?"

Dean sat there silent for a few seconds wringing his hands together before opening his mouth. "Me and Alana."

Frankie looked confused. "You and Alana what?"

Dean just stared at him, waiting for Frankie to get there.

And like a sudden epiphany, Frankie exclaimed. "Oh! You and Alana?! Holy shit dude, when?"

"Like a week and a half ago."

"And, when were you going to share this? How was it? High five dude!" Frankie said all at once, holding up his hand.

"I couldn't do it." Dean said solemnly.

Frankie put his and down. Concern washed over his face. "You couldn't do it? Why? What happened?"

Dean made a huffing sound before putting his head on his knee. "It was weird, gross and I couldn't do it. What the hell is wrong with me?"

Frankie was quite for a minute before putting a hand on Dean's and taking a deep breath. "There's nothing wrong with you."

Dean let out a disgusted laugh. "Oh yeah? So why couldn't I have sex with a girl without feeling sick?"

"Well," Frankie began. "the first time I was with a girl, I didn't like it either."

"Really?" Dean asked, feeling a little better. "Wait, what girl?"

Frankie smirked. "Hailey."

"What?! You and Hailey?! Jesus dude, when the hell was that?"

Hailey was a good friend of theirs. Tom boy to the core. Pretty though, warm brown eyes, long dark hair. She was also a gymnast.

"While you were away. It didn't happen. She wasn't mad though. She was pretty cool about it. We still hang out all the time."

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment. "So, what happened? Why couldn't you?"

Frankie was quiet. Hailey was one of two he had told this to. He had to tell her really, she was kind of involved after all. The other, Poot, real name Evan, eavesdropped and found out. But if was fine, he really didn't care.

"Deanie." Frankie started. "I'm going to tell you something. Only two other people know. Hailey, because she was there, and Poot because he's nosey."

Dean looked a little worried. "Okay …."

"Just promise me you won't hate me."

"Uh, yeah, I promise."

Frankie took a deep breath. "I couldn't be with Hailey, or any girl because … I'm …" He paused for a second. "I'm gay."

Dean didn't know what to say. It was the last thing he was expecting to hear. Frankie was gay. He didn't hate Frankie though, he wasn't even mad. It hit him though, like a tone of bricks strapped down to a two-by-four on a Mack truck, what Frankie was trying to say buy sharing this with him. And that's when Dean Portman did something that he never did. He started to cry.

Frankie reached a hand over and touched Dean's shoulder. "Hey, it's ok."

Dean jerked away from the touch and stood up. He stared down at Frankie and clenched his fists. "You're wrong." He said through gritted teeth.

Frankie started to stand. "Wrong about … ? Dean I never said …"

"I'm not like that! I'm not like you!" Dean started to shout. "I can't be! You're wrong!"

Frankie was starting to get a little mad. "There's nothing wrong with being gay! It doesn't make you bad or disgusting. But clearly you think it does. So I guess you think I'm a freak, huh?"

Dean was trying so hard not to punch a wall or throw something it was killing him. "No! I don't. I don't care that you're … I don't care. It's fine. I just …" His voice dropped a dozen octaves. " I just can't be … that."

"Why? Why can't you? Cause you're a hockey player? A tough guy? A fucking Bash Brother?" Frankie said bitterly. "I came out to you. I never hinted or implied anything about you. You read what you wanted out of it. And clearly, if there wasn't something bugging at you, we wouldn't be screaming at each other!" Frankie's voice had gotten higher at every word.

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?"

"I'm not!"

Frankie was getting tired of this. He marched over to Dean and stood right in Dean's face. "I'm gay. That's all I said. Whether you are or not, I don't know. But what I do know is that I never said you were. I can't control what's going on in your head!" he finished poking Dean in the chest with his index finger.

"Get your finger off of me." Dean seethed.

"Get a grip then." Frankie bit back.

"Fuck you!" Dean spat swatting Frankie's and away.

"Fuck you! Frankie retorted giving Dean a shove.

That did it. Dean shoved back harder. And Frankie shoved back. They started pushing, shoving, grabbing and hitting the other. It was looking like the making of a fist fight and Frankie was pretty sure he was getting punched when he felt his back hit the wall hard. He was stuck between his bedroom wall and the Great wall of Portman.

"You gonna hit me? Knock out my teeth? Break my nose? Do it then if that's what you want. Do it." Frankie just stood there. He stood at his full height staring at Dean waiting for the inevitable.

And Dean was going to do it. Oh, he wanted to. He had his fist clenched at his side in waiting. He could see Frankie waiting for the blow, hiding his fear, standing strong. Dean stood there, right up in Frankie's face for what seemed like forever be for doing anything. And then Dean kissed him.

Frankie stood there, completely sill, in shock. Was this really happening? This wasn't a punch in the face, this was … holy crap. He knew he should do something, anything, breath even, instead of standing there like a statue. He began to feel Dean tense up and start to move away. And instantly, Frankie grabbed Dean, pulled him back and kissed him. He felt Dean relax again. He felt Dean's need, his hunger for this. This feeling that he tried to have but never did. Dean started deepening the kiss, urging him to go farther. Frankie moaned and opened his mouth.

Dean made a gasping sound, clutching Frankie's hair and chest. There we're just no words to describe this, this incredible thing. Something so simple, so little as a kiss, felt this impossible. This was what he thought it was going to feel like with Alana. But this wasn't Alana. This wasn't even a girl. This was Frankie. A boy. And he would worry about that later.

Dean lowered a hand and brought Frankie's leg up and hooked it around his hip, pulling them closer together. His other hand was cupping the side of Frankie's face. He felt Frankie's hands gripping his tee-shirt, curling into the fabric pulling Dean closer as well. They continued to kiss each other long and deep. Dean never knew kissing could feel like this. Without even realizing it, he started rocking his hips against Frankie's, rubbing, grinding. Frankie was doing the same. This was the most amazing thing Dean ever felt. This was what being with another person was supposed to be like. And it wasn't long before the tightness in his jeans was getting to much.

Frankie was feeling the same thing. He decided to go a bit further, take the next step, if Dean was ok with it. He lowered one of his hands from Dean's shirt and placed it lightly on the band of Dean's jeans. He waited for Dean to react before he continued.

Dean drew back a bit and looked at Frankie before giving and approving nod and a raspy "Yeah." of permission. He gasped heavy breaths on the crook of Frankie's neck as Frankie undid the button and pulled the zipper down. He felt a bit of coolness hit as Frankie tugged his jeans down to his knees. The restriction was gone and the evidence of how aroused he was, was evident under his boxers. He let out a small cry of pleasure when he felt Frankie's warm hand palm the front of his boxers. Dean arched in to the contact and started kissing Frankie again. Something even more unexpected happened.

Frankie broke the kiss and the contact. Dean let out a small noise and suddenly found his back against the wall. He stood there staring at Frankie.

"What are you doing?"

Frankie said nothing and slowly started to tug down Dean's boxers. Dean started breathing heavier at that. Dean let out a strangled "Holy shit." when he saw Frankie lowering to his knees. Within a matter of seconds, between what was going on and the new feeling of Frankie's warm mouth around him, Dean was sure he was going to combust. It was incredible.

Frankie felt Dean's fingers gripping his hair. He could hear the approving noises Dean was making. And it was beyond arousing.

"Frankie … ungh … Frankie … oh my god … mmmh … stop."

Frankie drew back and looked up at Dean confused. Why did Dean say stop? He certainly seemed to be enjoying it. He got his answer when Dean pulled him up and crashed his mouth against his. Dean then began pulling Frankie's jeans open and tugging them and the boxers down.

Dean stopped briefly to look at Frankie. He had never seen another guy's parts before. Sure he showered in the locker room with the Ducks, but that was different. You don't look. Unwritten rule of the shower. But looking at Frankie, he wasn't disappointed. The only word to describe it was, wow. Definitely better that looking at a girl. Dean took a breath and tentatively reached a hand out to touch Frankie. Frankie more than obliged. He began moving his hand the way he would on himself, that was the only way he knew how seeing as he had never been with anyone else. Not another male at least. Dean was becoming more and more aroused just by watching Frankie. The facial expressions, the moans, it was hot.

It felt good. Too good. And Frankie was afraid that he was going to come too soon. He gently moved Dean's hand away and pushed against him, kissing Dean once more. They were skin to skin, rocking against each other. And it wasn't long before both boys clutched each other and shuddered against the other's mouth, making a mess.

Dean panted heavily and laid his forehead on Frankie's shoulder, breathing against his neck. Frankie held his close and panted in kind. After a few minutes, Dean lifted his head and looked at Frankie. It was a look of pleasure spiked with pain. Concern became etched on Frankie's features.

"Hey." He said placing a hand on Dean's cheek. "What's wrong?"

Dean's eyes began to sting. The glimmer of tears was evident but Dean held them back. He swallowed hard and in a quiet voice spoke.

"I … I'm gay."

Frankie gave a warm smile at Dean and stroked his cheek. He gave Dean a soft kiss before speaking.

"It's ok." He said giving the biggest, brightest smile you ever saw. "So am I."

And Dean smiled.

For the rest of the summer they had hung out. They never actually dated, they more of a friends with benefits arrangement between them. It was great.

Which is what brought him to the Eden Hall decision. The whole summer he had been lying to Fulton when he called. Telling him about Alana and the hot relationship he had with her. He hated it. He was lying to the guy who was like his brother. But he was so scared of what Fulton would think, say, do, he felt he had to. He was scared of what they all would think. Which is why he pulled a Bombay, and bailed. He didn't want to deal with it. The lying, the possibility of it getting out, everything. So, he took the coward way out.

He really wished he hadn't.

One weekend Dean's parents we're away for the night. Not suppose to be home till really late. Like, 3 am late. So he did what any red blooded American teen would do. Have a girl over and make out. Or in his case, guy. Well, that was the plan. And Frankie was more that willing to.

So there they were. On the sofa, some horror movie on the T.V., cola and popcorn on the coffee table, and them, lost in a deep lip lock. The night was perfect. And then Dean's parents came home three hours early. Here was Doug and Jackie Portman standing in front of the living room, there son on top on another boy, shirts off, kissing him.

His mom was crying, his dad was livid, Frankie was sent home, and Dean was screwed. It was a long night of screaming and tears. "No son of mine is going to be a queer!" from dad, "Where did I go wrong?" from his mother, Dean just plain loosing the battle all round.

And this was how he changed his mind about Eden Hall. Sure, Bombay played a good game of convincing him that the team needed him. It was true though. And they did miss him. Fulton especially. He missed them too. Truth be told he would have probably said yes to Bombay anyway, this big mess aside, only with more of a fight. When Bombay came to him, he let Bombay talk and said yes right away. Oh he made it seem like Bombay had to do a little arm twisting. But he couldn't let the guy know that he was more than willing to get out of Chicago because his dad had practically disowned him and his mother cried every time she looked at him, could he? No. Fucking. Way.

So he went. Showed up at the locker room. "Dean Portman has been awarded an full Scholarship at Eden Hall Academy. Had this lying around and my Lawyer said I should sign it. It's official boys, I'm back!" Made like he was excited. Did the happy group hug. Got on the ice and let out some rage in the form of fun. Got in the box and let out more frustration acting like an ass. And when the game was over and they won, he cheered and smiled and laughed and went out for pizza with everyone to celebrate. He had a grand o'l time.

Everything was hunky fucking dory.

Everyone was enjoying the celebration party. Even Bombay and Orion were there. Dean had to admit, it was nice. Everyone caught up with him and asked his scads of questions about Chicago. He answered them happily enough through mouthful's of pizza. Bombay has also told him that he had arranged for Dean to room with Fulton. Normally Dean would have been ecstatic about rooming with the other Bash Brother. Sure, he cheered with Reed, chest bumped him and hooted. But deep down, he wanted to choke on his pizza. Dean's head was swimming with so much frustration, fear and anger, he didn't want it to cost him his friend. But for now, he decided to stop worrying about I and try to enjoy himself. And, he had to admit, he was actually having fun. He really did miss this.

"So, what are he ladies like in Chicago land, Portman? Is there a future Mrs. Portman yet?" Asked Averman.

Dean stopped mid bite and stared. "Uh …"

"Now, now, don't be modest." Began Averman. "Fulty already told us about the lucky lady. So, come on, share with the class! Tell everybody about Alana!" He finished with a wide shit-eating grin.

At that moment Dean wanted nothing more than to kill Les Averman.

"Yeah man!" Guy piped up. "Have you scored yet?"

Guy Germaine was next. Possible beaten with the remaining parts of Averman.

Connie reached out and gave Guy a smack on the arm. "Guy! You don't ask that!"

Go Connie!

Guy rubbed his arm and glared at Connie. "Ow. Abuse!"

"Learn to be a gentleman." Connie said smirking.

"Learn to be a girl!" Guy retorted, warranting another smack from Connie.

To prevent anything from escalating, Charlie, the good captain, intervened. "So what's she like? Is she nice?"

"Oooh, yeah! What's she look like?" Goldberg added.

So Dean went on to describe Alana to everyone. Her personality, what she looked like, all that stuff.

"Oooh. You are one lucky Duck!" Russ said giving him an approving slap on the back.

"Uh, yeah. I guess." Dean replied trying to sound as excited as everyone else. He was just about to wonder how much more of this night he was going to have to pretend to enjoy, when Bombay and Orion announced that curfew was coming and they all had to head back. Everyone groaned and whined as the left. Dean was secretly glad. He wanted nothing more than to get back and go to bed.

When he and Fulton had got to the room, Dean noticed all of his things were already there. Bombay. Of course. Dean walked over to the his new bed and flopped down, mentally deciding that he was never going to move from that spot.

Fulton got himself ready for bed and grabbed the phone. He called his mother to tell her the good news that they had won the match against Varsity. They talked for about ten minutes and then Fulton hung up tossing the phone at Dean.

"Call your mum. She's always gets excited when we win. She's prolly waiting for you to call."

Dean sat up and picked up the phone. What could he do? He had to, knowing full well that she wouldn't talk to him. But he couldn't not, Fulton would ask questions. Dean had always phoned his mom after every game. Only Fulton knew. Fulton did the same but neither ever let anyone know. They we're the Bash Brothers. Bash Brothers weren't mama's boys. So once again he plastered a fake smile on his face and dialed. After a two or three rings, someone answered. Luckily, depending on how you want to look at it, his mom answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi mom. It's Dean. Just wanted to tell you we won. We beat Varsity. And …"

"I … I can't talk to you."

He could hear her start to cry. "Mom I …"

"I can't. I … I just …"

Dean heard the phone click and he knew she hung up. He knew it was going to happen. He just didn't realize how much it was going to hurt. He bit it back though, he had to make like everything was fine. He could feel Fulton staring at him.

"Dude, what happened?"

Dean put on his bravest face possible. "Huh. He phone must of died again. She can never remember to put it on the charger."

Fulton, clearly oblivious to the bold face lie, laughed. "No doubt. That's so your mom! She's a great lady though."

"Yeah, she awesome." Dean replied. He wanted to scream. "And dude, as much as I want to play a set at club Air Guitar, I know you're thinking about it, I'm wiped. All I want to do it hit this mattress hard!."

Fulton smiled. "I hear ya buddy. Night dude, See you in the morning. And now that you're here, we can put those preppie Varsity pricks in there place!"

"Only hell yeah!" Dean exclaimed giving Fulton a high five before turning out the lamp beside his bed and going to sleep.

And the Oscar goes to…

TBC ...

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Please read and review!