Got It Bad

AN: Mildly sexual content in this chapter. Or, okay, it's inplied. Enjoy!



Clara’s phone was once again going off. She could hear the distant ringtone and continued to sit on the couch, not moving a muscle. She had each call and text perfectly timed, so she knew exactly when to have an excuse for continuing to ignore Sidney. Just the thought of him still left a bitter taste in her mouth and a dull ache in her heart. A week, a long week, after the club incident and she still didn’t talk to him. They hadn’t broken up; neither of them said the words to each other, at least. In all the messages Sidney left, he just wanted to make things right between them. Clara just could not get that night out of her head. That was the sole reason she has been continuously ignoring him.

And she would have continued ignoring him if not for the fact that she heard Shannon answer her phone. Clara all but sprinted into her room, ready to rip the phone out of Shannon’s hand in a moment’s notice. “Shannon, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Clara hissed at her, glaring at her best friend and roommate. Shannon didn’t answer; clearly Sidney was saying something on the other side of the phone.

“Oh, he did what? No, I agree, that’s definitely not like him. Oh, he is? Okay, that works. I’ll make sure of it. Mhm, yeah. Alright, I gotta go. She’s standing right in front of me looking like he’s going to kill me. Oh, you want to talk to her? Sure, sure. I’ll see you at the game tonight then. Alright, here she is.” Shannon held out the phone to Clara, an unamused look on her face. “It’s Vero. You might want to check caller ID before foregoing and screening all calls you get.”

Sure enough, when Clara looked at the phone, Vero’s name was flashing up at her. Clara took a deep breath before putting the phone up to her ear. “Hey Vero,” she started quietly, another sigh on the edge of her voice.

“You are ‘orrible,” Vero stated angrily, her French accent becoming so defined Clara was hardly able to understand her. Clara winced as if Vero was yelling in her face. “Zid ‘as been inconsolable. ‘E thinks ‘e ‘as lost you forever.” Vero paused and Clara did nothing. She didn’t breath and she definitely didn’t say a word. What was she supposed to say to something like that? “‘E missed practice today.”

“Is he okay?” Clara asked, immediately thinking Sid was sick or injured, or worse. The images that flashed through her mind made her want to be sick.

“’E iz fine physically,” Vero stated, and Clara could just imagine her waving her hand around her face as if swatting away a pesky gnat. “But ‘e iz not eating, ‘e iz not sleeping. Dan ‘as benched him for the next three games.” Clara bit her lip, swallowing the guilt that lodged in her throat. She didn’t think their fight would case him so much trouble. She didn’t think he cared enough.

“Are you ‘idding me right now?” Vero screeched into the phone. Clara must have said what she was thinking out loud. “Clara, ‘e loves you. ‘E ‘as gone out of ‘is way to please you and make you feel welcome. ‘E gave you a wonderful birthday party. Zid does not do that for just anyone, not during the hockey season. You are special to ‘im. That iz why this ‘urts ‘im so much. ‘E is lost without you.” Vero paused for a while, and they both sat on the phone. Clara just wiped away a single tear that was falling down her cheek. “Don’t you think a week iz too long to be fighting over something as stupid as this?”

Clara just sat on the phone, silent as ever. What was there to say? Vero was one hundred and ten percent correct. A week was too long to fight over something so stupid. Not only had Clara been torturing herself, she had been torturing Sidney as well. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t warranted.

Eventually Vero sighed. “Do you see how zilly you are being? You and Zid were so happy together. ‘Ow could you let this break you?”

“I don’t know,” Clara finally whispered, her throat on fire from the unshed tears caught in it. She cleared it immediately when she heard someone knocking at the door. “Vero, I have to go. Someone’s at the door. Talk to you later.” Clara didn’t wait for a response before ending the call. She immediately pushed her palms against her eyes, feeling the tears slowly slide out.

“Clara, it’s for you,” came Shannon’s sing-song voice, and Clara looked up to see her standing in the doorway.

“I’m not really in the mood for company,” Clara said, and Shannon just shrugged.

“When, if you don’t go out there, he knows he can just come in here.”

“Is it Sid?” Clara asked fearfully, looking over to the window. They were on the second floor, and it was quite a drop, but she knew she could always hang onto the edge.

“It’s not Sidney.” When Shannon saw that Clara wasn’t moving she marched into the room and grabbed Clara’s arm, dragging her off the bed and out into the living room.

“Shannon, I told you, I’m not in the mood for company, damn it,” Clara fought, trying to get out of Shannon’s hands. Clara stopped in her tracked when she saw the man that was in their living room. His 6’6” frame looked awkward standing in their considerably small living room, but he somehow made it work. Clara’s jaw dropped. The man grinned. Clara turned to Shannon. “Why is Chris Pronger standing in our living room right now?”

Shannon just shrugged. “Ask him. I’m just the messenger,” Shannon left the room, shutting the door to her bedroom loud enough so Clara knew she was essentially alone with the captain of her favor team. Clara narrowed her eyes at him, putting her hands on her hips. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as it should have been if he wasn’t six and a half feet tall.

“So, why exactly are you here, Pronger?” He seemed taken aback by her blunt question, but only for a quick moment. His eyes, too, hardened.

“Well, I heard that there was a pretty Flyers fan here by the name of Clara. Guess she must not be home right now,” he said, and Clara felt herself recoil. She instantly dropped the smile, as did Pronger.

“Wow,” Clara started, shaking her head. “I knew you were a giant dick to the media. I didn’t think it would transfer so well into real life as well.” She was half tempted to walk to the door and tell him to get out when he sat down on the couch.

“I call it as I see it, and you look like you were hit by a truck.”

“Gee, thanks,” Clara stated, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms across her chest and stared at Pronger as he got comfortable on her couch. “I’m going through a bit of a rough patch. So if you’re only here to poke at how I look like shit, please feel free to leave.”

“Oh, now that brought some color into your cheeks.” Clara just rolled her eyes. “Come on, go get ready. You’re coming to the game.”

Clara just stared at him. “What makes you think that I’m going to the game? What makes you think that I even want to go to the damn game?”

“Because you love the Flyers and you want to see us kick the Penguins’ asses.”

“That’s not going to happen. They’re going to hand you your asses.”

Pronger just laughed. “Have you watched the Penguins lately? Wait, don’t answer that. Clearly you haven’t. For the past week the whole team has been completely off.” Pronger stood up and once again towered over Clara’s diminutive form. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked, staring down at Clara. Clara walked into the room and began to get ready. There was something in his stare. He was just such a commanding presence that you felt like you had to do what he did. And besides, it wasn’t like he was telling her to jump off a bridge or do something as destructive.

After all, she was just going to the hockey game of the man she was in love with, and they were currently estranged. There was nothing at all self-destructive about that situation. Nothing at all. Clara sighed deeply before going through with getting ready for the game that was sure to completely break her.



The normally short ride to CONSOL was long and quiet. There was hardly any traffic; Clara had never been to CONSOL so early before. She followed behind Pronger like a lost puppy. With every step her panic rose; she was going to come face-to-face with Sidney and not know what to do. Clara could feel her breathing getting sharper and sharper until she was almost hyperventilating.

“Clara, stop it,” Pronger said, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a light shake. “He’s not even here, okay?” Clara just looked at him, trying to calm down. The thought of seeing Sid, of talking to him, was overwhelming. The fact that Pronger knew surprised her, but it didn’t. After all, Pronger was an agitator. All the players talk and chirp each other on the ice. They weren’t to know that he wasn’t playing in the game. They needed to be prepared to throw him off his game.

Pronger sat her down on the bench outside of the locker room, out of sight of the tunnel where the players walk out onto the ice. Clara sat there and stared at the wall; she still hadn’t exactly gotten her breathing under control. She saw someone sit next to her but she was unconcerned with who it was at the moment. She gently felt an arm go around her shoulder. It was awkward, but felt right. She closed her eyes, and whoever it was started speaking to her in French.

“Il n'y a qu' un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé,” the man whispered and Clara sighed. She always adored French.

“I have no idea what you just said,” Clara stated softly, turning her head to see Danny Briere, still clad in his suit, with his arm around her shoulder, “but it was so beautiful.” He just gave her a soft smile.

“Nice jersey,” he said in English, tugging on the shoulders of the jersey gently. Clara blushed. She would be wearing her Danny B shirt when she’s meeting the man.

“Can I touch your hair?” Clara whispered, before pressing her hands to her mouth. She was not expecting to say that. Not at all. Danny just laughed at nodded. When he noticed that she wasn’t moving, he picked up her hair and put it on the side of his head. Clara let her fingers run through the silky strands with a sigh. “You French-Canadians have such nice hair,” Clara mumbled, more to herself than to Danny. He chuckled. She blushed again, letting her hand fall down. She turned away from looking at him.

“So who on the team haven’t you met yet?”

“No one that’s still on the team,” Clara stated with a shrug. She had met Mike Richards and Brian Boucher the previous season. Now Richards was a King and Boucher was a ‘Cane. Not to mention the countless others she had met in past seasons that were just not playing in the NHL anymore, but they didn’t count.

“Well, let’s meet the team before they start to get into their warm ups,” Danny said, standing up and pulling Clara off the bench. Clara looked at him funny.

“Aren’t you playing in the game tonight?” Danny shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

“They’re sitting me out as a precaution. The playoffs are right around the corner, and they rather not take any chances, I guess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Clara just nodded and then followed Danny around the corner. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Be warned, it doesn’t always smell so nice in here.”

Clara just giggled as they walked into the locker room. It was loud, everyone excited for the game that night. It made her miss Sidney and his friends; they were always s lively. Pronger nodded to her from his stall, systematically wrapping his stick.

Andrej Meszaros was the first one to come up to Clara in the locker room. He was shirtless, and she was trying not to stare. He was flexing on purpose. Clara watched as he looked from her, back to Danny, a grin overcoming his face. “New girl, Danny? She’s young.” Clara flushed bright red and Danny coughed awkwardly as Mesz slapped him on the back. Pronger just laughed.

“No, Mesz, she’s meeting the team,” Pronger spoke up, a grin still on his face.

“Did you win a contest or something?” Mesz asked distractedly, stretching in the middle of the locker room floor. Clara was mesmerized by how his lower back muscles rippled every time he tried to flatten himself against the ground. Clara cleared her throat and looked up at the ceiling.

“I actually have no idea why I’m here. Ask Captain Sass over there,” she stated, turning to look at Pronger. He didn’t even look phased by the new moniker.

“Favor for a friend. He told me how big of a fan you were of the team, and I owed him big time. So, everyone, be good. Clara’s important,” Pronger stated with a note of finality and of seriousness. Clara furrowed her eyebrows together, but shook it off when James van Riemsdyk came over to show her how he wraps tape around his stick.

In no time she was joking around with JVR and Claude Giroux, stretching with Matt Carle, and poking fun at Braydon Coburn with Scottie Hartnell and Kimmo Timonen. When they had to leave to do their pre-game warm ups, Clara felt slightly empty and lonely, even though Danny was still with her. Being around the Flyers made her realize just how lonely she had been while she was ignoring Sidney, and thus not around the team.

“So, how do you feel about the guys?” Danny asked as Clara got comfortable in Danny’s stall. Clara shrugged a little bit, a smile on her face.

“They’re all great guys. Especially little Couturier and Schenn; they are so adorable,” Clara said with a little chuckle. She gave a little sigh. “But something’s really bothering me. Danny, can I ask you something?”

Danny sighed as well, sitting down next to Clara, in Hartnell’s stall. “Does it have to do with that friend that Prongs owes?” Clara just nodded. Danny ran a hand through his hair, before leaning forward on his legs. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. But you should know. He’s probably going to be here tonight, anyway.”

“It was Sidney, wasn’t it.” It was a question, it was a statement. Danny just nodded.

“It was Crosby, yeah.” Clara nodded. She kind of figured. “It was the Golden Goal Chris was referencing,” Danny added. Again Clara just nodded, not saying anything. They sat in silence for a while, before Danny finally stood up, holding out his hand for Clara’s. She gave it to him and he tugged her up. “Might as well get up to the suite. The boys are probably wondering what’s taking so long.”

“You brought your boys?” Clara squealed, a grin on her face. Danny nodded with a laugh, leading her out of the locker room and towards the set of elevators that Clara knew took them up to the upper levels of CONSOL. “Oh my gosh, that probably sounded so weird, but they are just so cute!” Danny just laughed again, shaking his head as the elevator doors opened.

Unfortunately the elevator wasn’t empty. Clara’s breath caught in her throat as Sidney looked up from where he was texting on his Blackberry. Clara swallowed hard, but didn’t move. She wouldn’t have moved, either, until Danny gave her a gentle prod in the back, before stepping out of the elevator. Clara glanced back at him just to see him hit the button to close the elevator doors. She could feel her breathing elevate once more as she turned back to look at Sidney.

He looked exhausted. And not just normal, it’s April and almost the end of the regular season tired. He looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in weeks. And his eyes… they were so sad. They never left her, she noticed. But they were so sad, as if he could look and just torture himself because of it.

Clara took a tentative step forward, closer to Sidney. This week had been for hell.

“I’m sorry,” Clara said softly, feeling a frown slip onto her face. Her hand gently came up to his cheek and Sid leaned into her touch, just the gentlest of sighs escaping his lips. Clara took another step forward, bringing her other hand up to his head. She missed touching him like this. She took another step so she was pressed right against him. He took a deep breath, looking down at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, bringing his hand around to hold her to him.

“Can we put this week behind us?” Clara asked, her voice getting caught in her throat. “It has been complete hell for me.”

“That makes two of us then,” Sid whispered, brushing his lips over her forehead. Clara just stood on her tiptoes and brought his lips down to hers. She felt like a dying woman just giving something to drink. Something that was supposed to be so sweet and so cute turned heated in a matter of seconds.

“Tell me there’s somewhere private we can go,” Clara asked between kisses, running her hand under Sid’s suit jacket. He just groaned, and then jumped as the elevator dinged on the highest level. Clara quickly disentangled herself from Sid’s body and just grabbed his hand. Her heart was pounding against her ribs but luckily there was on one in front of the elevator. They quickly slipped off and Clara followed behind Sid. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, especially as they came into a room with a lock.

“Thank God for the executive offices,” Sid said, crushing Clara against the door. She bit her lip looking up at him.

“So where were we, exactly?” she asked coyly and Sid let a slow grin overcome his face.

“I believe, my love, we were right here,” he stated, before picking her up and kissing her like he hadn’t in forever.

A week was too long for them to be fighting over something so stupid. Clara promised herself she would never make that mistake again.