Author's Note- [Kaila] I've been having angst withdrawals myself. Do hope this clears some of it up. Really I have nothing substantial to say. Except hooray for those who understood the cafeteria scene and an apology that this isn't in complete chronological order. It flips from Saturday afternoon in Minnesota to Friday night in Colorado and such. Bear with me.

Disclaimer- Any discrepancies can be forwarded to my lawyer the Mr. Johnny Cochran. Just messing… Disney gets dibs on the Ducks, OCs belong not to be but themselves and anything else mentioned? Probably not mine.

~*~

[Padfoots-Pirate] Even if you have no idea who the Mighty Ducks are I'm glad you're reading this Kaitlin ;-) And I do have a certain degree of attraction to Joshua Jackson. I have since I was 5 :-D

[NYGoldfish94] Thanks kiddo. The title actually comes from a Five Iron Frenzy song, which is one of my favourite bands. And don't worry the plot is getting even thicker in this crazy and vague Connie-Chris-Guy love triangle I've begun.

[C-chan96] I understand your pain. I'm longing for Charlie angst myself, and I'm writing this story (with Jessi of course). But I only want to write what I think will be the highest quality Spazway abuse. I have to be in the right mood and have a pre-formulated idea of what I'm going to do to him first. His angst is my pride and joy of this fic.

[KShyne99] I'm definitely a fan of angsty Ducks. It drives me up the wall when they're Disney-esque. Sorry I had to make Jesse a pothead. Yet I adore the idea of him as an eccentric enigma who has insight through the wonderful world of marijuana. Don't worry too much though, he's not your run of the mill druggie, he's much more. And I really should call Jessi and interrogate her on who she envisions Ken's friend to be. In all honesty, I'm not sure yet.

[Crazy4nc128] Never fear, there will be more Adam angst, in all his confused, homophobic yet homosexual ness. And my boyfriend waves back :-D He's a friendly guy. And thanks for the get well wish.

[plainjane] From one Coloradoan to another, thanks for your faithful reviews. I'm glad someone understood what I attempted and failed to write as far as the cafeteria scene. Good luck up in Ft. Collins with the pizza job ;-)

[shadowblood] Why thank you m'dear.

[BeckyLovesPortman] Our gratitude is extended. :Blushes with the compliment of being called talented in angst writing: Thank you.

[Banks99] Roller hockey is the shit. Any weekend with decent weather I'm out for an average of 6 or so hours, and when I get the chance I go out after school. It's no ice hockey, but it'll suffice for now. Thanks for making sense of that :-D

~*~

The lulling sounds of Alkaline Trio's "Emma" and the dim lighting caressed the melodramatic group that lounged around the room. Connie sat sinking into a corner of a worn black leather couch that lined the back wall, watching. The atmosphere was casual, and she observed a group of guys around her age debating about the Avs' weak season, a tall, lanky blonde seemingly attacking a bowl full of Doritos and a short brunette in the corner adjacent to her attempting to suck the tonsils out of an even more petite redhead.

When they arrived Chris had politely introduced her to Scott, the small forthright brunette that was the host. She couldn't bring herself to talk to anyone else out of sheer timidity. Back in Minnesota she was viewed as outspoken and bold, mostly because she had spent her whole life with the same core group. Here, away from those people, surrounded by no one she knew, she became reserved and drew back into a shell, conscious of how others would perceive her as.

Suddenly her weight shifted up, as someone had sat down beside her. She turned her head, looking straight into Chris's chin.

"Um, Connie, how are you?" he asked in a typically male manner, taking a sip from a beer bottle.

"Eh, pretty good," she shrugged eying the brown glass. She didn't have a problem with drinking, she just didn't herself. She knew of about 5 or 6 regular "casual" drinkers from the team but between playing hockey and school she hadn't had much time nor passion to develop a taste for the poison. She'd had wine at church with her parents and at formal dinners, her only casual drink being one time at Julie's, the summer after freshman year where the girls had attempted to make margaritas yet failed terribly, adding what tasted like three times too much tequila. She'd been sick the rest of the weekend.

"Um would you like something to drink?" he offered noting the girls prolonged glare at his bottle.

Connie paused. She wasn't one to be susceptible to peer pressure, was she? She asked quickly questioned herself. Not that she could count the boy's offer as pressure, it bordered more along the lines of courtesy.

"Sure," she responded, attempting to hold a relaxed air in her tone.

~*~

Adam apathetically stumbled into his room, bag trailing meekly behind him.

"Hey Cake-Eater," an energetic voice greeted from the far desk engulfed in piles of paper, food wrappers and clothes.

"Conway?" Adam asked in dazed shock.

"No it's the Tooth Fairy," the brunette rolled his eyes. "Who just happens to be your roommate. They got sick of the Charlie kid and kicked him out on his ass. Why so surprised?" he shrugged, pulling his headphones off his ears.

"Why didn't you show at practice, Orion flipped a bitch when you didn't show," the blonde shrugged tossing his bag next to his bed, not having the energy to air out the sweat-saturated equipment inside.

Charlie paused, remembering the short hours ago when he awoke, not knowing where he was. As his vision slowly came into focus he had realized he was in Hall's basement, missing one major component, Hall. On the floor in front of the beanbag where he had restlessly slept, were an old sweatshirt and 2 bus tokens. Enough to get him back across town to Eden Hall. That was Jesse for you…

"Eh, my mom wasn't feeling too hot, musta been the flu or something, when I got home last night. I had to help her around the house and run some errands for her last night and this morning. Felt bad I couldn't get back in time," he shrugged pulling at the sleeves of the tattered gray hoodie he wore. He felt the icy blue eyes glaze his figure, knowing they were attempting to decide whether he was honest or just bullshitting his friend. Adam had gotten to know Charlie well enough over the last few years to figure out if he were being truthful or not. Charlie kept a straight face, attempting not to let his mind wander back to his mom or the night spent toking up with Jesse. Finally the blonde sighed, the inspection over.

"Well I hope she feels better," he smiled weakly. "But I'm going to go take a shower, practice was a bitch today. Conditioning mostly laps and sprints."

"Shame I missed it then eh? But yeah you better go, before I pass out or something," the captain teased light heartedly.

"Yeah sure," Adam mumbled, grabbing a towel, his face pasted with the veneer of a small smile.

As soon as Charlie heard the slam of the door, he put his headphones back on his ears and leaned back clenching his eyes shut.

'I'm loosing my sight, loosing my mind, wish somebody would tell me I'm fine…"

~*~

"Connie you're hilarious," the brunette with frosted tip chuckled. She grinned in response, having what was it… 3, no 5, maybe 8, or however many beers under her belt, made her feel more self-assured. In all honesty, she hadn't felt this social in… forever to her knowledge.

"Hey, Nick, does… Chris have a girlfriend?" she slurred, looking over to where he stood talking to a tall gangly red head.

"Uh, nah. Miller was never one for the ladies. But he's packing quite a punch if you know what I mean," he laughed, chugging the rest of his bottle, tossing it to the side. "Why does a pretty girl like you ask?"

"Cause he's a pretty boy," she giggled.

"Hey, Chris!" he yelled, from his position on the floor.

"No Nick," Connie tried to interrupt him, while at the same time fighting back hilarious laughter.

"Constance over here wants you to bone her," he shouted. The red head who was apparently sober shook his head sniggering. 

"Niiiiccck," she blushed, as Chris glanced wide-eyed in shock next to her. "That's not true Chris," she pleaded, brushing a lock of long chestnut hair out of her eyes.

Before Chris had a chance to answer, the lights came on prompting groans and boos from the numerous drunken partygoers and the sounds of Rise Against had been cut short.

"Sorry kids, I just got a call from my parentals. Something about a change of plans, they're leaving Boulder right now and should get here in about 30 minutes. That means clear out, go home, party's over," Scott announced from a table in the middle of the room.

Chris turned to Connie who was still draped on the couch.

"Guess that means it's time to roll out. You okay to come?" he asked, apparently able to hold his liquor well, for every time Connie received a drink, he had grabbed himself a bottle as well. Connie nodded shooting him the thumbs up sign.

"Well Constance Mer-ooo of Minnesota, nice to talk to you," Nick grinned slap happily, as the red head grabbed his hand.

"You're catching a ride home with me tonight Vannatta," he groaned rolling his eyes pulling him off the floor and towards the front door with the stream of people.

"Bye Nick," she squealed in a singsong tone, waving energetically at him. "Okay, Chris, let's go."

~*~

"Thanks for bringing me," she grinned sweetly as the car started to roll away down the suburban street.

"No problem dude," he shrugged, a few drinks seeming to be the key to breaking his shell of silence. "Glad you enjoyed yourself."

Connie gazed out the window again, the pitch black sky littered with hazes of lights and roads lined with houses and cars all seemed to blur together, creating a streak of endless light. She quickly turned her head, staring at Chris.

"You do know… what, um Nick said, yeah, was…" she stuttered unable to complete her thought, her body seemingly molded into the velvety fabric of the seat.

"True?" he asked raising an eyebrow with an expression of mock interest.

"Well um… yes," she mumbled, her words sticky with hesitation as she twirled her fingers through her hair. Chris chuckled in response.

"Yea right, like some chick would ever want me, Chris Miller the Canadian dumbass prude," he rolled his eyes, swerving aimlessly down the road.

"I bet you're not prude," she grinned devilishly, her inhibitions altered.

"I'm not… prude. Just sorta… I dunno shy? And picky?" he shrugged, seemingly unaware of where the conversation was leading. "I'm not some fucking Mormon or some shit."

"I know," she purred taking off her sweatshirt, which prompted the driver to burst into laughter, swerving in front of an Explorer.

"You're gonna kill us!" she shrieked in sarcasm.

"Eh I'm sober," he responded pulling a sharp left onto a small side street initiating more horns being blasted. Oblivious to his numerous traffic violations, he flipped the volume button of the radio, the car now blasting with the sounds of the Toadies.

"Yes'm, wait, PULL OVER" she screeched trying to contain her laughter. Chris bolted to a haulting stop along a now desolate empty road.

"What, did I hit something?" his eyes widened. Connie shook her head viciously, leaning across the console and forcing her tongue into his mouth.