Got It Bad

The ride to CONSOL was silent. Clara still hadn’t put on her jersey, and Sid was wondering why she just didn’t get it over with. Not that he wanted her too, but she said she would be wearing a jersey. What did it matter when she put it on?

But Sid was glad she didn’t all the same. He wanted her to meet the team tonight, before the game. Clara had been emphatic about not meeting the team, saying that it wouldn’t be worth it if they ended up breaking up two days later. When she had first said it, it had hurt. Sid had concussions, had serious injuries, but nothing hurt as bad as her statement. It was only when Clara explained about a previously failed relationship that Sid understood her trepidation. Clara was a realist and didn’t want to get ahead of herself, and Sid admired her for that. Sid himself was an optimist; he was always looking for the bright side.

But, no matter her reasoning, Clara was meeting the team before the game. Sid was serious about her and he wanted the team to know it. Also he wanted his teammates to get off his back about her actually being real; there seemed to be a wonderful rumor going around that he was entertaining a fake girlfriend.

Sid thought about telling her that she would be meeting the team, but he couldn’t force the words past his throat until he was parking in the player’s garage at CONSOL. “So… I was thinking you could meet the team before the game,” he said, or really more mumbled than anything else.

“I’m sorry, you want me to what now?” Clara asked, turning in her seat to look at Sid. Sid looked at her for a moment before looking back out the windshield into the late Pittsburgh afternoon.

“I want you to meet my teammates,” he said more slowly this time, more of to not change his mind. He wanted her to meet the team, no matter what. He was serious about Clara; he couldn’t help but remember the chain he wore around his neck, just waiting for the right moment to give it to her.

“Okay,” Clara said, still looking at him. “I’ll meet them after the game.” But Sid shook his head.

“No, before the game. There’s, eh, no telling their moods after.” Which, really, was true, but Sid was more worried about her mood after the game. After all, he thought that the Penguins were going to kick her favorite team’s ass. Doing so would cause unnecessary drama between them, and Sidney did not want to do something that stupid. Clara just gave him a look before shrugging.

“Okay then,” she stated, before grabbing her bag and hopping out of the truck. Sid sighed before following her with his equipment bag in tow. He caught up to her quickly and reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. It was a simple gesture but it caused both Clara and Sid’s hearts to soar.

Every step they took Clara got more and more nervous. She was glad she hadn’t openly worn anything Flyers; she would have never agreed to the meeting. She was sure they already knew that she was a giant Flyers fan; she didn’t need to flaunt it in all of their faces right before a huge rivalry game.

Just outside the locker room, Sid stopped and turned to look at Clara. She was so nervous and he could tell. He just kissed her softly, pushing her bangs behind her ear. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Stay here while I make sure the coast is clear.”

Clara just nodded, not able to get words past her lips. She waited all of two minutes before Sid came out of the room, sans bag and jacket, to bring her into the room. He held out his hand and she grasped it tightly, taking a deep breath before stepping behind him. Now, she had no problem telling Sidney exactly what she thought of him when she met him. She had no problem standing up to the bullies for her younger sister, even though the bullies were older than both of the girls by a few years. But facing the entire Pittsburgh Penguins team? She definitely was nervous as all hell. She was a Flyer in Penguin territory. It was unheard of. She briefly wondered if she would come out alive.

The smell was the first thing to hit her because she was behind Sid’s back. It was an awkward smell, like old socks mixed with sour milk. It kind of made her feel sick to her to her stomach. The next thing she noticed was the change in noise level. When they first walked in, the room was loud with excited chatter. As everyone noticed their captain in the doorway, you could literally hear a pin drop. And then the volume swelled again, this time with questions about where his girlfriend was and various other digs at Sid.

Clara crossed her arms and stepped out from behind Sid, a disapproving glare fixated on her face. She was so protective of Sidney it was ridiculous sometimes. Everyone hushed again, and she could feel many different pairs of eyes on her.

“She’s not wearing your jersey?” called out a voice from the far end of the circular room. Clara just stepped out a few feet so she could easily see the whole room better. She glanced around, looking at each player in the room. Tyler Kennedy was the only one that flinched when she looked at him. She sent him a sarcastic smile before it wiped off her face.

“What does it matter to you if I’m wearing his jersey or not, shortie?” Clara fired back quickly. “And more, how do you know I’m not? I’m wearing a jacket, after all.

“Clara…” Sid said softly, placing a gentle hand on her lower back when he saw TK flush red. His touch was soothing, but it didn’t settle the spark of anger she felt deep inside of her. “Please don’t anger my team before the game.” Clara just gave him a look before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“This doesn’t seem to be one of your best thought ideas, Sid,” she replied, just loud enough for Sidney to hear her and no one else. She uncrossed her arms and pushed her bag higher on her shoulder, before turning from the room and starting to walk out the door.

“Wait!” came a voice from deep within the locker room. Clara sighed but stopped in the doorway, turning back to look at the man who had just thumped over to where her and Sid were still standing. She couldn’t help but grin at Marc-Andre Fleury’s half-dressed form. It was a funny sight to see, a man wearing large hockey pants and no pads on his torso.

“Yes?” she asked calmly, staring up into the six foot two goalie’s face. He just broke into a grin, sticking out his hand.

“Marc-Andre Fleury, resident sarcastic asshole in Sid’s life. I guess you’re taking my place now?” he said quickly in his accented English. Clara just stared at him for a moment before just laughing. Finally, she grabbed his hand, glad the tension was broken.

“Clara Brennan, nice to meet you, Mr. Flower,” she said with a grin. She couldn’t help it. Marc-Andre just had a way of being so cute and adorable without even trying that it was difficult to not smile in his presence. It didn’t help that he happened to be one of her favorite players, not that she would go and admit that to him. “And yes, I guess I am.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he stated, bring her hand up to his lips and kissing her knuckles, making her giggle.

“Okay, that’s smooth. But aren’t you married?” It was Fleury’s turn to laugh.

“True, true, but that doesn’t mean I can’t work my charms on you,” he stated, wagging his eyebrows up at down.

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Max,” Sid said with a shake of his head. Flower just shrugged before turning back to Clara.

“So what made you decide to date this sneaky fucker?” he asked and Clara snorted, not expecting the name. She snuck a look at Sid and he didn’t look fazed at the name. It must be a Penguin thing.

“He forced me into it,” Clara said with a smile. It wasn’t necessarily true, but Sid but his hand on her wrist gently. It was a long running joke with them that he forced her to have coffee with him on their very first “date.” Fleury just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he just shook his head.

“Go figure. Most popular of us all, and he had to force a woman to date him. Tragic.” That triggered the locker room to erupt into laughter. Clara and Sid laughed along as well.

“It must be the sex!” came a voice, and Clara knew it immediately. Sid’s cheeks flushed and Clara giggled awkwardly.

“Actually, Staal, I’m sure that’s more your forte,” Clara stated, though her cheeks still flamed red. The tall blonde came into their view, shirtless and, like Fleury, in hockey pants.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said cheekily, flexing as he did so. Clara laughed and Jordan had the decency to look hurt.

“Uh, no thanks. Who knows what I might contract from you…” The room was filled with oh’s for the low blow comment. Sid snickered next to her and Clara grinned.

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Fleury said finally with a grin, pulling Clara in for a hug. She internally freaked out. She hoped the rest of the team was just as easy to like and get along with.

It was only five thirty when Clara was pretty much kicked out of the locker room. She had talked to every one of the players, minus TK, who didn’t appreciate being called shortie by someone who was less than five foot four inches tall. But she didn’t really care for him so it didn’t matter to her one way or another.

She was just relaxing in the suite that Sidney had brought her to, waiting for the game to start. He didn’t tell her exactly who would be in the suite. Clara didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. She was just sitting in the seats, the very plush seats, when the door of the suite closed loudly. She jumped in her seat, her hands holding her bag close to her chest as she peered over her shoulder, watching as a man dressed in an elegant suit and a woman dressed sharply in slacks and an obvious designer coat stopped at the very top of the steps.

Clara heard her breath. She knew exactly who the man was. Mario fucking Lemieux. Oh my God, this must be the owner’s box. She tried to sink into her seat, but she knew he saw her. He immediately started coming down the steps, and she noticed the large smile on his face when he was finally in front of her.

“You must be Clara; Sid told us you would be here tonight,” he started without much of an introduction. Not that he needed one, but Clara was still shell shocked at the appearance of Mario Lemieux in front of her. His wife Nathalie peaked around his wide body and smiled.

“She hasn’t moved since she saw us, has she?”

“No, I don’t think she has,” Mario said with an amused tone in his voice. Clara just shook her head before a slow smile grew on her face and she hurriedly stood up, a grin finally present on her face. “Ah, there’s the smile Sid has just talked about. I’m surprised it hasn’t run away by now.” Clara couldn’t help but blush.

“It’s such an honor to meet you, Mr. Lemieux,” she stated excitedly, holding out her hand. He looked down at her diminutive hand and laughed before pulling her in for a hug. She wasn’t expecting it and tensed immediately, her bag pressed in between them. He finally let her go, still smiling.

“And it’s Mario, for the record. You’re obviously very important to Sid if he wanted you to sit up here.” He paused, taking a step back. “Sorry to overwhelm you. It’s not often that Sid brings a girl to sit in the owner’s box. He wouldn’t really tell us anything much about you.” He paused again, looking at his watch. “We still have plenty of time until puck drop. So would you care to join us for a chat?”

Clara couldn’t believe this was happening. “Uh… sure,” she said, clutching the bag to her chest. It sparked a thought. “Uh, he didn’t tell you much about me? What did he tell you?”

“Just that you aren’t a Pittsburgh native and you’re going to school in the area. And that you happen to be a fan of another team.” Clara gulped loudly. She’d never been more nervous in her life. Here was Mario Lemieux, a literal hockey god, right in front of her. She was a Flyers fan in very, very dangerous territory.

“Oh, uh… I don’t really know how best to say this, but I should probably get it off my chest now because this is going to be really awkward otherwise and at least now I’ll be able to breathe without a boulder on my chest.” She took a deep breath in before letting it out, looking anywhere but at Mario. “I’m from Philadelphia. I’m a Flyers fan.”

It was tensely quiet for a moment. But then Mario just nodded. “That explains everything then.”

“What do you mean?” Clara couldn’t help but wonder, before turning a shade of bright red. Mario just laughed lightly.

“Were you planning on wearing a jersey?” he asked, and it dawned on her. The most obvious reason why he wouldn’t want her in the stands: he wouldn’t want her sticking out like a sore thumb if she did end up wearing her Flyers jersey.

“But I didn’t choose until this morning!” Clara stated, looking down at the bag she clutched in her arms. She sighed. “He didn’t know but I got a Pittsburgh jersey last week. I just picked one before the game, and I have no idea which one it was.”

Mario just nodded, before going up to the top of the suite, where Nathalie was already sitting. Clara sighed, before looking down at her bag and unzipping it. She didn’t immediately see the jersey, but when she saw the navy and baby blue, she breathed a sigh of relief. She slipped out of her coat and slid on the jersey to go and talk to one of her biggest hockey idols. Maybe tonight was looking up.