Edit: Referring to Averman's schtick as a David Spade routine is an error on my part and has been fixed.
A/N: First off, apologies for the long selection from my opening song. It's just that...goddamn, if you haven't heard "Black Hole Sun" before, go away! Yes, go away and find it so that you can listen! It's utterly beautiful and hypnotic, and I'm making it required listening, so there!
This chapter sort of broadens out to include more of the other Ducks. Charlie, Adam, Julie, Connie and Guy are used a lot in fanfics with a Bash-centric theme, but I also wanted to have more involvement from the ones usually relegated to supporting roles. You know: Averman, Russ, Goldberg, and Luis. I hate Dwayne, just so you know. He hates me back, so it's all good.
Okies, I've got two votes for Bash-slash, two non-committal reviews, and Katie, who will be happy no matter what I do with this story--save maybe me killing off one of the Ducks, or even worse, one of the 'Bashies'!
Whoa, before I get a whole shitload of crying, screaming, 'how-dare-you' reviews, let me say that I am NOT planning to kill off anyone. In this fic. In another one, maybe. But definitely not for this one; "Might" is my fluffy, relatively angst-free MD fic. I try to get one of those in each of my big fandoms. (Harry Potter, Murder by Numbers, and The Mighty Ducks.)
Again babble! ::screams at her hands:: Stop typing these moronic notes, you stupid hands, and get going with the story! Brain, are you listening to me, too?
****
"Might as Well, Part Four" (a mighty ducks fanfic by SchizoAuthoress)
["Black hole sun/ Won't you come/ And wash away the rain/ Black hole sun/ Won't you come/ Won't you come/
Stuttering/ Cold and damp/ Steal the warm wind/ Tired friend/ Times are gone/ For honest men/ And sometimes/ Far too long/ For snakes/
In my shoes/ A walking sleep/ And my youth/ I pray to keep/
Heaven send/ Hell away/ No one sings/ Like you/ Anymore/
Hang my head/ Drown my fear/ Till you all just/ Disappear."
--from "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden]
A week later, the Ducks were out on the ice for an early-morning practice--this time to prepare for the game against the Hawks of Cooper High School, in Robbinsdale[1]--and the Catlady was being subjected to a drill of a firing-squad-like framework. A few shots by Banks and Germaine got by her, even one of Connie's and Charlie's, but it wasn't until a slapshot courtesy of Fulton nearly blasted out her knee that Coach Orion blew his whistle to end the drill.
"Good work, Julie," he praised, but he wasn't even really looking at her.
Julie panted something that sounded vaguely like, "Thanks, Coach," and dragged herself over to the bench to grab one of the water bottles. Goldberg bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing; it wasn't that he would be in any better condition after such a workout, it was just amusing to see the famous Catlady worked to a frazzle.
Orion waited until Julie had rejoined the group before verbally passing out his critiques of their individual performances. Most of them got positive reviews, with a few pointers on what to improve about their shots. Dwayne was scolded for "playing with the puck" before taking his shots, all of which were blocked by Julie. None of Averman's pucks had even gotten close to the posts, and Orion strongly suggested that he get help, if not from the other Ducks, from Orion himself.
"And Fulton," Coach said finally. He paused--ominously, Fulton felt--and cleared his throat. "I think we have a problem. Your slapshot has a lot of power, but no accuracy. Like with Averman, I suggest that you take cues from your teammates and learn to control your shots."
"Coach!" Fulton protested, "I'm up to two out of five; isn't that /some/ improvement in accuracy?"
"And three out of five would be even better. Work on it." Orion brought the whistle to his lips. "All right, team, sprints!" He ordered, and the whistle rang out shrilly.
****
"Want me to kill him for you, Fult?" Portman offered as the team staggered into the JV locker room an hour later. Fulton laughed half-heartedly.
"Nah, you'd be too sloppy. All crimes of passion are."
Russ piped up, "I could arrange it for you. A coupla boys from L.A., they're in, Orion's out, and they go back. No connections to you, man."
"Shut up, Russ," Guy said, stripping the pads from his upper body. He grinned playfully, "Some of us here don't want to be accessories to a murder." Russ punched him on the shoulder, and Guy yelped in surprise.
"Pansy," Russ teased.
"Don't make me sic Connie on you!" Guy mock-threatened. Russ's eyes widened to comically large proportions, and the black teen pretended to swoon in terror.
Fulton rolled his eyes at their antics and headed for the showers.
****
"Banksie, I love you!" Charlie exclaimed, although it sounded more like 'Bansy, ah wuff ooh,' through the blueberry muffin that the Ducks' captain had just crammed, whole, into his mouth. Adam smiled, a little uneasily, at Charlie's actions; he backed away just a little and set the tray of muffins on the lunch table. Adam had just finished his Food and Nutrition class, during which he had made enough of the sweet baked goods to assist in the feeding of his team. Either one of the Bash Brothers, Goldberg, or surprisingly, Kenny could have finished off the entire three dozen, so he was limiting everyone to one muffin before seconds.
Averman sniffed his muffin cautiously. "This isn't a blueberry-walnut muffin, is it? I'm allergic to walnuts."
"You are not," Connie snapped, munching on her peanut-butter-celery sticks. Averman made a face.
"Okay, fine. I hate foreign objects in my food is all."[2]
"Walnuts are food, not foreign objects, Les." Julie corrected, not looking up from her book, 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.'
"They're plain blueberry," Adam cut in, before Averman began to rant.
"No way, Jules! Walnuts are evil! It's like, you're enjoying a nice slice of banana bread...soft, warm...and suddenly 'crunch!', you bite into this hard thing in your food. No thanks." He shoved his glasses back up and took a big bite of his muffin. "Hey, this is pretty good, Banks," he commented.
"You just don't like them because it reminds you of that time you found a cow-knuckle in your hot dog," Guy said with a snicker. Luis made a face. [3]
"Gross, man, I'm /eating/ a hot dog here!"
Connie smiled sweetly at Luis, "It's your own fault for not being vegan!"
"'Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night...Rage, rage against the dying of the light. '" Fulton recited loudly, interrupting the conversation.
Everyone looked at him. Fulton shrugged off the stares and said, "I'm tired of all the talk about food."
Russ laughed, "Well, take your pick, Fulton. Food, hockey, girls."
"None of the above?" Ken suggested, pulling apart his hamburger and removing the pickle slices. Fulton nodded,
"I'll take that one."
Charlie started to laugh. The problem with that was that he still had about a fourth of his muffin left to chew. He gagged and began to cough, turning faintly blue from lack of air. Guy, looking worried, pounded him on the back a couple of times.
"Hey, Spazway, you're scarin' us. Breathe, man, breathe."
"Keep coughing, Charlie." Dean instructed, getting to his feet. "Dude, don't stop trying to cough it up." Suddenly, Charlie's breathing hitched and stopped. Guy's eyes widened, and he bodily hauled Charlie into a standing position. Dean lunged for them, snarling, "Aw, fuck, man."
Everyone at the table was on their feet. "Portman, you're gonna break his ribs!" Julie shrieked as Dean placed a fist over Charlie's navel, overlapping it with his left hand.
"Jules.../shut up/!" Goldberg yelled at her.
Dean drove his fist up and into Charlie's abdomen, toward the breastbone, lifting the smaller teen off the ground in his efforts to expel the offending piece of food. He repeated this motion twice more before a soggy thing roughly the size and shape of a golf ball flew out of Charlie's mouth to land with a squelching sound on the table.
Charlie gasped and coughed, practically collapsing against Dean. The Bash Brother, for his part, was grinning like a loon at his successful Heimlich maneuver.
The Ducks gave a cheer of pure relief, drawing even more stares. Guy was practically strangling Adam in the estatic hug he'd swept the pale blond into. Averman had regressed to his Rob Schneider routine, yelling,
"Deanmeister! Saving the cap-tain! All right!"
"Shut up, Averman," Charlie wheezed. Dean released him, and Charlie said gratefully, "You saved my life, Portman."
"No problem," Portman mumbled, a little embarrassed. Fulton punched him on the arm and congratulated him softly,
"Good work, bro."
"Hey, Charlie," Dwayne spoke up, "you gonna finish that?"
He looked very surprised when the rest of the team groaned, "Cowboy!" and started pelting him with their napkins.
"What'd I say?" Dwayne asked, confused.
Just a typical lunch period with the Eden Hall JV Ducks.
~~Essere Continuato/To Be Continued...~~
A/N: What can I say? I was getting bored of TBC. It's Italian this time.
[1] This team actually exists. I couldn't resist using them...yanno, the old Ducks v. Hawks theme.
[2] It's a pet peeve I stole from my stepfather.
[3] This actually happened to me, once. Needless to say, I don't eat hot dogs anymore.
A/N: First off, apologies for the long selection from my opening song. It's just that...goddamn, if you haven't heard "Black Hole Sun" before, go away! Yes, go away and find it so that you can listen! It's utterly beautiful and hypnotic, and I'm making it required listening, so there!
This chapter sort of broadens out to include more of the other Ducks. Charlie, Adam, Julie, Connie and Guy are used a lot in fanfics with a Bash-centric theme, but I also wanted to have more involvement from the ones usually relegated to supporting roles. You know: Averman, Russ, Goldberg, and Luis. I hate Dwayne, just so you know. He hates me back, so it's all good.
Okies, I've got two votes for Bash-slash, two non-committal reviews, and Katie, who will be happy no matter what I do with this story--save maybe me killing off one of the Ducks, or even worse, one of the 'Bashies'!
Whoa, before I get a whole shitload of crying, screaming, 'how-dare-you' reviews, let me say that I am NOT planning to kill off anyone. In this fic. In another one, maybe. But definitely not for this one; "Might" is my fluffy, relatively angst-free MD fic. I try to get one of those in each of my big fandoms. (Harry Potter, Murder by Numbers, and The Mighty Ducks.)
Again babble! ::screams at her hands:: Stop typing these moronic notes, you stupid hands, and get going with the story! Brain, are you listening to me, too?
****
"Might as Well, Part Four" (a mighty ducks fanfic by SchizoAuthoress)
["Black hole sun/ Won't you come/ And wash away the rain/ Black hole sun/ Won't you come/ Won't you come/
Stuttering/ Cold and damp/ Steal the warm wind/ Tired friend/ Times are gone/ For honest men/ And sometimes/ Far too long/ For snakes/
In my shoes/ A walking sleep/ And my youth/ I pray to keep/
Heaven send/ Hell away/ No one sings/ Like you/ Anymore/
Hang my head/ Drown my fear/ Till you all just/ Disappear."
--from "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden]
A week later, the Ducks were out on the ice for an early-morning practice--this time to prepare for the game against the Hawks of Cooper High School, in Robbinsdale[1]--and the Catlady was being subjected to a drill of a firing-squad-like framework. A few shots by Banks and Germaine got by her, even one of Connie's and Charlie's, but it wasn't until a slapshot courtesy of Fulton nearly blasted out her knee that Coach Orion blew his whistle to end the drill.
"Good work, Julie," he praised, but he wasn't even really looking at her.
Julie panted something that sounded vaguely like, "Thanks, Coach," and dragged herself over to the bench to grab one of the water bottles. Goldberg bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing; it wasn't that he would be in any better condition after such a workout, it was just amusing to see the famous Catlady worked to a frazzle.
Orion waited until Julie had rejoined the group before verbally passing out his critiques of their individual performances. Most of them got positive reviews, with a few pointers on what to improve about their shots. Dwayne was scolded for "playing with the puck" before taking his shots, all of which were blocked by Julie. None of Averman's pucks had even gotten close to the posts, and Orion strongly suggested that he get help, if not from the other Ducks, from Orion himself.
"And Fulton," Coach said finally. He paused--ominously, Fulton felt--and cleared his throat. "I think we have a problem. Your slapshot has a lot of power, but no accuracy. Like with Averman, I suggest that you take cues from your teammates and learn to control your shots."
"Coach!" Fulton protested, "I'm up to two out of five; isn't that /some/ improvement in accuracy?"
"And three out of five would be even better. Work on it." Orion brought the whistle to his lips. "All right, team, sprints!" He ordered, and the whistle rang out shrilly.
****
"Want me to kill him for you, Fult?" Portman offered as the team staggered into the JV locker room an hour later. Fulton laughed half-heartedly.
"Nah, you'd be too sloppy. All crimes of passion are."
Russ piped up, "I could arrange it for you. A coupla boys from L.A., they're in, Orion's out, and they go back. No connections to you, man."
"Shut up, Russ," Guy said, stripping the pads from his upper body. He grinned playfully, "Some of us here don't want to be accessories to a murder." Russ punched him on the shoulder, and Guy yelped in surprise.
"Pansy," Russ teased.
"Don't make me sic Connie on you!" Guy mock-threatened. Russ's eyes widened to comically large proportions, and the black teen pretended to swoon in terror.
Fulton rolled his eyes at their antics and headed for the showers.
****
"Banksie, I love you!" Charlie exclaimed, although it sounded more like 'Bansy, ah wuff ooh,' through the blueberry muffin that the Ducks' captain had just crammed, whole, into his mouth. Adam smiled, a little uneasily, at Charlie's actions; he backed away just a little and set the tray of muffins on the lunch table. Adam had just finished his Food and Nutrition class, during which he had made enough of the sweet baked goods to assist in the feeding of his team. Either one of the Bash Brothers, Goldberg, or surprisingly, Kenny could have finished off the entire three dozen, so he was limiting everyone to one muffin before seconds.
Averman sniffed his muffin cautiously. "This isn't a blueberry-walnut muffin, is it? I'm allergic to walnuts."
"You are not," Connie snapped, munching on her peanut-butter-celery sticks. Averman made a face.
"Okay, fine. I hate foreign objects in my food is all."[2]
"Walnuts are food, not foreign objects, Les." Julie corrected, not looking up from her book, 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.'
"They're plain blueberry," Adam cut in, before Averman began to rant.
"No way, Jules! Walnuts are evil! It's like, you're enjoying a nice slice of banana bread...soft, warm...and suddenly 'crunch!', you bite into this hard thing in your food. No thanks." He shoved his glasses back up and took a big bite of his muffin. "Hey, this is pretty good, Banks," he commented.
"You just don't like them because it reminds you of that time you found a cow-knuckle in your hot dog," Guy said with a snicker. Luis made a face. [3]
"Gross, man, I'm /eating/ a hot dog here!"
Connie smiled sweetly at Luis, "It's your own fault for not being vegan!"
"'Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night...Rage, rage against the dying of the light. '" Fulton recited loudly, interrupting the conversation.
Everyone looked at him. Fulton shrugged off the stares and said, "I'm tired of all the talk about food."
Russ laughed, "Well, take your pick, Fulton. Food, hockey, girls."
"None of the above?" Ken suggested, pulling apart his hamburger and removing the pickle slices. Fulton nodded,
"I'll take that one."
Charlie started to laugh. The problem with that was that he still had about a fourth of his muffin left to chew. He gagged and began to cough, turning faintly blue from lack of air. Guy, looking worried, pounded him on the back a couple of times.
"Hey, Spazway, you're scarin' us. Breathe, man, breathe."
"Keep coughing, Charlie." Dean instructed, getting to his feet. "Dude, don't stop trying to cough it up." Suddenly, Charlie's breathing hitched and stopped. Guy's eyes widened, and he bodily hauled Charlie into a standing position. Dean lunged for them, snarling, "Aw, fuck, man."
Everyone at the table was on their feet. "Portman, you're gonna break his ribs!" Julie shrieked as Dean placed a fist over Charlie's navel, overlapping it with his left hand.
"Jules.../shut up/!" Goldberg yelled at her.
Dean drove his fist up and into Charlie's abdomen, toward the breastbone, lifting the smaller teen off the ground in his efforts to expel the offending piece of food. He repeated this motion twice more before a soggy thing roughly the size and shape of a golf ball flew out of Charlie's mouth to land with a squelching sound on the table.
Charlie gasped and coughed, practically collapsing against Dean. The Bash Brother, for his part, was grinning like a loon at his successful Heimlich maneuver.
The Ducks gave a cheer of pure relief, drawing even more stares. Guy was practically strangling Adam in the estatic hug he'd swept the pale blond into. Averman had regressed to his Rob Schneider routine, yelling,
"Deanmeister! Saving the cap-tain! All right!"
"Shut up, Averman," Charlie wheezed. Dean released him, and Charlie said gratefully, "You saved my life, Portman."
"No problem," Portman mumbled, a little embarrassed. Fulton punched him on the arm and congratulated him softly,
"Good work, bro."
"Hey, Charlie," Dwayne spoke up, "you gonna finish that?"
He looked very surprised when the rest of the team groaned, "Cowboy!" and started pelting him with their napkins.
"What'd I say?" Dwayne asked, confused.
Just a typical lunch period with the Eden Hall JV Ducks.
~~Essere Continuato/To Be Continued...~~
A/N: What can I say? I was getting bored of TBC. It's Italian this time.
[1] This team actually exists. I couldn't resist using them...yanno, the old Ducks v. Hawks theme.
[2] It's a pet peeve I stole from my stepfather.
[3] This actually happened to me, once. Needless to say, I don't eat hot dogs anymore.
