Disclaimer: I still don't own the Mighty Ducks.
And so this fiasco begins.
Dean wakes up early, bangs the door closed loud enough to wake Fulton and barrels his way down to the gym in the next building. He spends all his time there, besides the rink and classroom. It calms him down and keeps him in shape, so no one – especially Orion – complains.
He doesn't bother to warm up, doesn't care if his muscles tear, looks forward to the burn it delivers. He grabs the weights for an hour. Bench presses follow for anothe.r Then he runs until his legs give out. Dean has to sit in the locker room for twenty minutes just to shakily make his way outside. He grits his teeth as he straightens to pass by the guy sitting at the front desk – if he notices something in then Dean might get banned from gym use for a week and that's not something anyone wants.
Dean sits at a bench in front of the hockey arena, wishing we had practice on Sundays. Anything to get his mind off of last night.
-
Connie drags me to the cafeteria for a late breakfast with Guy, Dwayne, and Russ. We sit, our trays in hand, and I find that conversation comes easily. At first I sat, picking at my food, sure that they could read the events of last night on my face.
If they do, no one says a thing about it.
Dwayne laughs at some lame joke of Russ' and Connie chatters excitedly with Guy about their plans later in the afternoon. There's not much to do on Sunday, but they always find somewhere for a date. Russ says something about going to study with Goldberg – yeah right, we're thinking to ourselves with a smirk – and leaves.
"You want to go?" Dwayne's southern twang echoes in my ears, snapping me out of my current daydream.
"Where?" I ask, smoothing my hair behind my ears.
Dwayne grins toothily; he's such a good guy. "To the rink, duh."
I nod, and we leave together. I know Dean will probably be in the gym which isn't even in the same building at the ice rink. It'll also win us brownie points with Orion, considering we don't have practice until the middle of next week. Dean stops by his room, slips on his pads, and soon he is opening the rink doors.
We go in the separate locker rooms and surprisingly, no one else is here. I think, anyway, until I reach the plastic barrier between the stands and the ice. I hear the swift, sharp sound of metal sweeping across something equally as hard. I hear the puck and stick meet. I breathe and the frigid air invades my lungs. It clutches at my chest as I see Dean skating around, beating the ice with his stick.
He turns and our eyes connect for a flash. His anger and hurt seems to flow through the empty air and into my head in a second and I am struck by his emotions. I lean back on my skates and my head bows. I feel sick again, ready to collapse under all my gear.
Dwayne crashes through the men's locker room. "Ready to go, Jules?" Suddenly his warm, happy voice seems harsh and abrasive.
Dean stops skating and watches the scene play out in front of him. My ears are ringing and I watch Dwayne's lips move, his eyes wander, and his face shutter with curiosity. He moves to take the ice and leaves the gate open for me.
"Come on, Jules," his voice gives me a headache, "get over here."
I swallow and my eyes are on the ice as I skate over to join Dwayne. He skates once, twice, three times around the perimeter of the rink before realizing that neither Dean nor I are moving, speaking, breathing.
I manage to look up from the lines my skates are creating in the ice and see Dean staring at me. Another flash, only now I think he's feeling my awkwardness and apprehension. I blink and suddenly, he's behind me and heading for the men's room. The only thing I have left is his hockey stick clattering to the ground.
I whip my head around and watch him go. I'm struck with a pang of hurt and I say to Dwayne, "Hold on a sec."
Dean throws his shin guards into a locker across from the bench in the middle of the room. He shrugs off his shoulder pads and lets them bang against the concrete floor. His face is burning an angry red. I'm frightened and stay against the wall. My heart is already pounding knowing I'm somewhere I shouldn't be, and Dean is not helping.
"Dean," I begin meekly, not knowing where my regular stuck-up self is. I could really use her right now.
Dean spins around with such intensity I think he's going to fall down. His hair is damp with sweat and sticks diagonally to his pink forehead, little wet ribbons dripping down his cheeks and chin and chest. I can see his teeth grit together with a jumble of words he wants to spit out, but can't figure out which order to put them in. I can relate.
He decides not to say anything, but instead stands and watches and his eyebrows are knit together like they've been glued.
I swallow and my eyes are on my wet skates again. "Dean…" I begin again, unsure of my words.
"What."
I want him to forget all this – forget last night ever happened. I want to go back to being Julie and Portman, friends, team mates, nothing else.
A pang interrupts my thoughts. It comes from my heart and sends uncomfortable little shock waves through the rest of my body and I can feel the remnants of them in my fingertips.
I don't know what I want – do I? I wanted to kiss him last night, I wanted him to want me. I still want him to. There are so many things I want I can't stand to list them all.
"What?"
Dean's voice still retains its sharp edge, but I can see that his eyes soften under his bushy, black eyebrows. I stare at him, my mouth open very attractively. His eyebrows raise in an annoyed fashion.
"Julie – what the hell do you want? Didn't you get everything last night?"
Dean's words sting like tiny bees, buzzing in my ears. I can't believe I'm here.
"You can't even stand to speak to me, can you?" Dean scoffs. He tears off his thigh pads and stomps out of them, continuing. "Just took everything last night and now you're done. To think I actually thought…" he laughs cruelly, "never mind, doesn't matter now, does it? God damn, I thought that maybe…"
"I just want you!"
All I can think of his running my hands through his thick, black hair again. To feel his lips against the soft skin on my neck. To feel his weight on mine. All I want…
I turn and exit the room quickly, throwing off my own gear as tears stream down my burning face. For wanting him so much, I certainly am not doing a good job of showing it.
A/N: Thanks to you guys who left comments - I really appreciated them! Reviews are more than welcome. Goodnight!