Author's Note- We're back… All the wonderful Bash Slash is courtesy of Jessica. I can barely right any of the story, let alone an Author's Note. So I'll spare you all…
Disclaimer- Cam and Andy are my two friends Jessi thinks are gay lovers. As do I… but never the less, they definitely belong to themselves. Anyway you know the deal. Oh yes, harsh language. Homophobia. Don't read if you don't like reality.~*~
"Fuck," Portman groaned banging his dark head against the wall next to his bed. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Each curse emphasized with another bang.
"I didn't think… I thought…" Fulton drawled, having had gone into some sort of shock. He had such happy ideals of the Ducks; that no matter what they would always stick together. Until he had seen Bank's reaction.
"Maybe… it was just shock?" he offered weakly to Portman.
"No dude. I saw that look. It was a 'Die faggot while I go vomit, I am a holier than thou Christian right winger, repent and rid my presence of that filthy immorality."
"But isn't he, ya know… with Charlie?"
"Maybe, goddamn hypocrite."
The door banged open, deepening the dent of the doorknob into the wall.
"Hello my bashes," Andy swaggered in.
"Where's Cam?" Fulton asked when the pale silent kid didn't appeared behind the stock Asian.
"He's with his fucking girlfriend," Andy spat with a scowl coming over his face. "He doesn't have the time for me anymore. It's all about Laura. 'I think I'm in love, she's so perfect, blah blah blah.' High school relationshit. Never works out," he growled sprawling out on his back on the small floor space between the beds.
Fulton looked fearfully at Portman who deucedly glanced away. Andy oblivious to the awkwardness continued ranting. "He didn't even care when the new X-Men comic came out. He was seeing a fucking chick click with Laaauuurrraa. Wolverine would have kicked his shitty hairy ass if Wolverine were real," he paused slightly as though lost in the thought of his comic book hero alive. As quickly as he started zoning off he was back. "But anyway, how the hell did he find a girlfriend in this dump anyway? Musta been sneaking out, damn bastard. I ha-" a phone rang. Expectantly Fulton and Portman looked at Andy who extracted his cell phone.
"Cam?" Fulton realized that despite the scowl on his face, his small eyes lit up. Getting up off the floor Andy left the room with a glance back.
The awkwardness settled back over the pair, if only for a short while.
The door banged open for a second time, this time the one face they dreaded the most appeared.
"Uh, hey Banks," Portman tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace.
"Don't talk to me you fag. I'm not down here to congratulate you guys. You're just- sick. Fuck. I don't know if I can share a locker room with you. What if you decide to start playing 'prison' like you were this morning? That was disgusting, fucking sick. You guys are barbarians that can't distinguish between right and wrong. I can't stand you guys."
"Adam…" Fulton tried to plead.
"Don't address me you fudge packing queer"
He found himself gasping for breath against the wall, Portman's hands holding him six inches off the ground.
"Fuck you Banks," he hissed. "Don't call Fulton that or I'll rape your pansy ass… if I can keep it up looking at you. You have no fucking right to storm in and degrade us. I've seen the way you gaze longingly at our captain. You worship him, you'd gladly blow him, become his lap dog, you fuck toy bitch.
"Just like Fulton," Adam sneered. "I'm not some homo fag. My asshole hasn't been enlarged."
"Fuck you." Portman hissed punching Adam and shoving him out into the hall. Turning back to Fulton, Dean's heart froze. Fulton Reed had gone pale, his eyes didn't focus and his breaths were taking in short gasps.
"Fult- you okay man?"
"Am I your bitch? he asked quietly.
"No!" Dean retorted vehiminently. "You're not my bitch, you're not anyone's bitch. I like you dude. I like you a lot."
Fulton Reed smiled warily. "I do too," under his breath he added, "I may even love you." Already past the conversation, Portman didn't hear Reed's last words.
~*~
Connie ran her hand through her straight brown hair, not able to feel anything but the nauseous feeling that sank deep into her stomach. She had just finished another week in Colorado, which had involved another couple hockey practices, her teammates beginning to warm up to her and include the new girl, five days of classes for her second semester of senior year at Smoky Hill, which was still awkward seeing as the school was so large, no one noticed her presence, and seven even more awkward days with Chris and Donna.
She had never quite figured out the occurrences of that Friday night, nor was she sure she wanted to. She didn't have enough time to analyze the after effects before being thrust onto the ice for an intense practice of conditioning. Any vomiting or aches were more clausabley contributed to that.
All she could wrap her mind around was the fact, Chris had a hint of an idea of what happened. His actions and emotions were more of a roller coaster ride than Julie PMSing. One second he appeared to be gazing admiringly at her, although is may have just been her imagination, and the next his eyes would shift, scowling to the floor. She wasn't sure if she had subconsciously been avoiding him or he refused to talk to her, it supplied the same outcome.
She really didn't want to think about it too hard and risk loosing her breakfast over it, which she was on the verge of. Shifting over to her side she cursed the deities for their sadism, and watching her vomit up her guts during Saturday's conditioning practices. She began to clench her eyes shut only being interupted once again by the ring of her phone. The one that she had misplaced on Monday in Physics, only to be retrieved Friday morning in the security office. As she grabbed it off the bedside table she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of deja-vu.
"Ello?" she mumbled.
"Connie? You're alive," the familiar voice irked her ears.
"Yea Guy… I think you would have found out by now if I was dead."
"Funny. Why haven't you been answering?" he asked, concern saturating his voice like a lovesick dog.
"Busy… School, hockey, getting used to a new state. I didn't come here for vacation. Plus I lost my phone Monday, just got it back yesterday," she spat falling back onto her back. She heard a pause, imagining the curly headed teen's apprehensive face curled up trying to comprehend the information she was feeding him.
"I just thought you'd want to maybe call me or something, when you got there. It's okay though," he trailed off.
"Sorry Guy, my life doesn't revolve around you," she groaned, clenching her teeth in pain.
"I know, I'm sorry. Have you been sick? You sound awful. All the Ducks miss you… except, well of course Julie. We all think you should have stayed here, you're a great player babe," he started up again like a wind up doll.
"I'm fine," she stressed. "And good, that bitch can rot in hell. The Select is better than the Ducks anyway."
"Seriously honey, is something wrong? You know you can talk to me," he emphasized.
"What do you think I'm doing? I'm sorry, but I have to go, I have to leave for practice in a couple of minutes…. So I'll talk to you later k?" she shrugged aggravated.
"Okay I understand. Sorry that the Ducks aren't good enough for you. This new team has really gone to your head Con," he responded with the first hint of anger in his voice. Last time he'd been like this is when they lost their scholarships.
"You know what, the Ducks aren't good enough. You will never realize that you're just a dead end Minnesota team likes hundreds of others in the state, who will wind up working at some meat factory or lumber yard for the rest of your lives. At least I'm out doing something, not being a codependent clingy prick like you," she spat heart pulsing with anger. There was another pregnant pause; she once again pictured Guy sitting in his dorm, holding the phone, his face numb in shock, eyes wide in disbelief.
"You know what Constance Moreau. I don't need you. We don't need you. You're a pompous little bitch. Have fun in Colorado fucking all the guys you've probably been with you little skan-"
"So what if I'm with other guys. Like I said I'm not co-dependant like you Guy. At least I can get some," she interrupted.
"Fine. Just, go, go to practice, have fun, see if I care. Eden Hall is better off with out you," his voice cracked, as though he was on the verge of tears.
"Okay, bye," she screeched into the phone tossing it across the wall where she watched it shatter, case flying across the room, tears spilling down her cheeks. Maybe I'm the one who's PMSing she thought falling back onto the bed.