bodgei (bodgei) wrote in storytellersong,

Dressed in Burgundy

Title: Dressed in Burgundy
Challenge: #41
Media: Original Fiction
Rating: PG
Notes/Warnings: Set in the same universe as the last few – at this point they are married. I’ve never mentioned his team but he plays for the Phoenix Coyotes (but did you know that me saying that makes this copyright violation?) anyway, they dress in Burgundy.

Jimmy’s team wasn’t supposed to make it to the playoffs. Then they weren’t supposed to make it out of the first round. They weren’t supposed to make it to the finals and they definitely weren’t supposed to be winning in game seven.

Part of it was that game six and seven fell on the day before and the day after the full moon. Two days that Jimmy would normally be transformed and running around as a tiger. He was better at not transforming than I am. After each game I had been going home to transform. He had just held off on transforming. For me that would have made me less productive, with Jimmy it had the opposite effect. He had shined in the last two games. He had stunned the team they were playing in game six, with a shutout. He had stunned me and it is hard to stun me.

We wives had gotten box to ourselves. How could we not? This imposable thing was happening to our husbands. We needed to be together and on our own. We were all on pins and needles. I was so excited I almost changed forms any number of times. The wife of Jimmy’s best friend on the team sat close to me, holding my hand. Sig and Eva knew about Jimmy and me and then never seemed to care that we had more than one form.

The score had been tied at one for most of the game, but Jimmy’s team mate had scored early in the third. The game had been about hanging on to that slim lead for 20 minutes. Jimmy and the Defense had been more then up to the task. And I was proud that Jimmy didn’t hit anyone when they tried to screen him.

We were counting down the seconds when a player from the opposing team got a break away and came at Jimmy like the hounds of hell were after him. He shot but Jimmy caught the puck easily in his glove. The other player didn’t stop and hit Jimmy as the buzzer ending the game sounded. Jimmy stayed on his feet as the other man bounced off.

Jimmy roared.

The crowd roared back.

His team surrounded him touching his shoulder and bumping their helmeted foreheads against his mask. There was pomp and circumstance then. The teams shook hands and the losers left the ice. The cup was brought out and presented. Our husbands skated around with a 40 pound oil drum held over their heads.

We wives cried and hugged each other. Then someone came to fetch us and take us to the Toyota Club. I had never been in there, I knew it was across from the dressing rooms and that it was only open to a few hundred people who owned the most expensive seats. We were told to wait, to enjoy ourselves and our husbands would meet us.
Eva stayed close to me as strangers asked us about our husbands; she could tell the excitement was getting to me. More than anything I wanted Jimmy, but I knew he had to talk to people and, of course, shower. Even I had to admit Jimmy stank after a game. Eva and I were sort of off in a corner, goalies are known to be a bit odd and I suppose that sort of thought can go for their wives as well. Or maybe it was because Eva was known to be a bit of a bitch.

“Amy?” Jimmy called from the door.

“Over here,” I said in a conversational tone coming to my feet. He would hear me, if he didn’t he would smell me.

He ran to me, cheeks flushed with excitement. He had never looked more excited or handsome. He rushed by someone trying to ask him questions with a quick shake of his head. He lifted me from my feet. I rested my hands on the side of his face and rested my forehead against his.

“You did it,” I said to him.

“I did. We did. Isn’t it incredible?”

“It is,” I told him as he set me back on my feet. He kissed me gently and turned back to the reporters and the celebrants.

We celebrated hard. I was sober enough to call a cab at the end of the night beyond that the evening was a blur.

In the morning Jimmy’s snoring woke me. He was sprawled out on his stomach his dirty blond hair too long, his play off beard still on his face. There were random bruises on his back and arms. When he sensed me looking at him Jimmy turned and curled around himself.

“Love you Amy,” he mumbled.

“Love you too Jimmy,” I said kissing his dark honey hair, “Was last night a dream?”

“Feels like, but I went and picked up the paper on the front porch this morning,” he reached behind him and pulled the sport page across to show me. There were a bunch of pictures from the night before, one of them was of Jimmy and me with our foreheads together.
Tags: challenge #41, original fiction
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