State of Grace

Sid has had some pretty wild nights in his time. Granted, he hasn’t had as many as some of his friends or other players have –no Patrick Kane style Cinco Del Mayo benders on his behalf or any extremely questionable and near incriminating photos of nights out like the ones that seem to emerge on Paul Bissonnette’s twitter page, but he has had fun in his time. He knows what a hangover feels like, but he also knows what his drinking limit is and he usually sticks to it.

Only, as he battles to open his eyes and feels the faint light in the room practically stab him in the eyeballs, it occurs to him that he obviously ignored his drinking limit last night with some serious vigour, because he has NEVER had a hangover quite as damning as this. Every slight movement he makes aches through his whole body and even the action of rolling over requires some ungodly amount of effort. It’s an amount that he can’t quite currently muster, so he just stays lying on his stomach, face buried in his pillows.

A groan falls out of his mouth when he opens it, an aggrieved and pained noise, like he is some sort of wounded animal or something.

“Oh good,” a voice says from what sounds like the doorway of the room. “You’re awake.”

Terror floods through him, replacing the aching with cold hard fear as he starts to try and gather pieces of the night to place back together.

The warm ups. The loss. The chat with Peter. The dinner with –HOLY SHIT.

He almost doesn’t want to, but he pushes up on to his hands press up style and holds him self up above the pillow to get a view of the bed sheets. He’s definitely in his own bed, so that means…….

“Relax,” Grace says with a hint of laughter in her tone. She pushes away from the side of the doorframe she was leaning on and crosses the room to Sid’s side of the bed. “Whatever you’re thinking happened, it didn’t happen. Scouts Honour.”

Sid is grateful for that, not because Grace isn’t attractive or anything (quite on the contrary actually) but Peter’s words keep ringing in his ears relentlessly and he can’t believe that he only had ONE JOB TO DO and he’s maybe managed to make a right mess of it somehow. Chalk two up for the Downward Spiral for those who are keeping score, and Sid totally is.

He lets himself flop back down on to his front, but rolls over on to his back and attempts sitting up, resting heavily on the backboard of the bed.

“Do I want to know what happened?” he asks.

“Probably not,” Grace answers.

He closes his eyes to run his hands over his face, contemplating whether he can keep them there and hide behind them forever, but Grace nudges his bare shoulder with her hand and he opens his eyes to a glass of water.

As much as he tries, he can’t remember much of last night past arriving at a restaurant and ordering dinner with Grace and her Mother. He trusts her to be honest when she says he doesn’t want to know, so he focuses on the next step –Damage Control.

“Please don’t think I’m being rude, but do I have to worry about you selling the story of this to anybody?” He really has to ask.

Grace shakes her head and actually laughs a little, a small musical sound coming from between her full lips. She must be telling the truth about nothing happening last night, at least nothing of the sexual variety because she is in different clothes, a black shirt with a silver fern on the left breast of it and a brighter blue pair of jeans. She can’t have stayed over last night.

“No, you don’t have to worry. With the possible story of you skipping out on your wedding waiting in the wings to shred you to bits, I’m not super keen to add to it.”

Fuck. Shit. Damn. Crap. Crap. Crap. How in the world has he gone from Champion of the Media’s chess games, to making a questionable decision a minute? Chalk three up for the Downward Spiral.

“Shit,” Sid curses, heat burning in his cheeks. “So, I kind of told you about that, huh?”

“Its fine,” Grace shrugs, trying to make it seem less significant than he’s worrying it is. “You didn’t really divulge all, I mean; it wasn’t an episode of Dr Phil or anything. You just said that you hadn’t been able to go through with it and now live in fear of her and her bitchy friend running to tell the press about it. That’s all.”

He drains the rest of the water like its air. “Where’s your Mom?”

Grace takes the glass from him and swaps it for another full one from the many that she had set up for him on his bedside table.

“She’s back at our hotel. Don’t worry, she wont say anything either.”

He absorbs the new glass of water like a fish, and as Grace makes the switch for him again he feels the liquid starting to take effect and clearing the fog from his head, if only marginally. It’s a start.

“I didn’t stay here last night,” Grace says as he gulps down the third glass full. “Just in case you’re wondering. Mom and I drove you back here in your vehicle and then we took a taxi home once I’d put you to bed. I came back this morning to check on you and bring these back.”

She puts her hand in to her pocket, pulling out a set of keys and throws them to the space of the bed in between his legs.

He holds out the empty glass for her and she takes it, setting it back on the night stand as he picks up the keys.

“My car keys?”

Grace ignores the look of confusion on his face and shrugs again. “I didn’t know what kind of drunk person you are, like whether you’d maybe want to get up and drive some where or something, so I took them with me. Just to be on the safe side.”

Sid frowns, glancing up at her, watching her tuck a lock of hair back behind her ear like she’s almost nervous of what he thinks of her. “So you took the keys but you didn’t drive the car?”

“Not after we brought you back here. I didn’t want you to see your vehicle missing and think I’d stolen it then call the Police or anything,” she answers, having truly thought of everything. Seriously, Sid thinks there is a lucrative idea for a business here for her as Babysitter of High Profile Sports Stars. Getting them home safely without any mess after they’ve over done it. There is definitely a gap in the market.

“I mean, that would cause a headline you don’t really need, right?” She holds her hands up, stretching them across an invisible strip, miming a headline. “Intoxicated Hockey Star makes it home safely yet doesn’t know how. Vehicle still remains stolen.”

“Thanks, Grace,” he says wholeheartedly meaning it. “Thanks for, ah, babysitting me I guess.”

Grace flashes a friendly smile, a replica of the one from the twitter picture. She shrugs again, like she has done a lot in the last ten minutes Sid notices, as if this whole thing is no big deal. She must have gotten a lot more comfortable with being around him over dinner, because this easy-breezy manner is certainly the opposite of the tongue-tied girl he was introduced to at the start of the night.

“It’s no problem, really,” she assures him. “You’re my Captain.”

Sid almost wants to laugh at the natural ease with which she says it. “Putting the drunken Captain to bed isn’t usually the task of anybody –team member or fan- I can guarantee you that.”

“I know,” she replies, handing him another glass of water just as he was about to ask for one. “You tend to be angelic. But don’t get mad at yourself for this, okay? Everyone is allowed one night of lenience, in fact, some are over due for it. Luckily, yours comes with very little trace of embarrassment. As far as everyone else besides you, me and my Mom are concerned, you took us out for dinner last night and got home at a reasonable hour all by yourself. I’ve already posted a couple tweets about how awesome it was to be able to meet you and ask you everything I’ve always wanted to. Well, almost everything.”

And at that, Sid really does let himself laugh.

“So I did make coherent sense for at least part of the night?” he asks, pushing a hand through his dishevelled bed hair.

“Yeah,” Grace grins, remembering how they spent the first part of the meal with Grace practically interviewing him, asking him a bunch of different questions about him and the team off the top of her head. Then he had stopped her and said he’d earned the right to ask her a few questions, and proceeded to ask about her job and how she became a fan of the team.

It had been really great. A lot of laughs, plenty of good food and a whole heap of bonding. Grace had even relaxed enough to trust herself to make jokes and Sid had laughed at nearly every single one of them, the beauty of his smile a whole other world wonder when seen in person, when flashed at a joke you make.

“You were pretty great,” she concludes, “so thanks for that. I appreciate it. I guess I should go now though, let you get some sleep.”

She nods her head curtly and turns to leave, but on impulse Sid reaches out and catches her wrist.

“I should thank you properly,” he says, biting on his lip. “Make us even. What do you think about treating you and your Mom to lunch or something?”

He tries to tell himself it’s to double check that he can trust them both not to say anything to anyone about his night and cause him further issue, because sitting through ANOTHER condescending lecture from Peter will definitely be the death of him; however he knows it’s not. Not really. He already trusts Grace. It’s something about how she’s given him a whole lot of reasons to trust her and no reason not to, and it’s also something about her. Something simple that he can’t describe but that enables him to feel at ease around her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be hiding out for the next couple days?” she asks, making Sid blush.

“Told you about that too, huh?”

Grace laughs, that same sweet noise again. “Uh, yeah, you get pretty talkative after a few beers. Or in the case of last night -a few beers and a few shots. And thanks for the offer, but Mom is actually waiting for me to meet her. We’re supposed to be going sight-seeing today. She’s always wanted to travel but never been able to so she’s pretty eager to see the city while we’re here.”

Impulsive decisions like offering dinner, choosing to drink heavily and catching her wrist must go hand in hand when it comes to Grace, because Sid finds himself offering her a personal tour with behind the scenes access to everything in the city before he can stop himself.

Grace thins her eyes on him. “You sure you’re up to it? If I were you I’d want to sleep all day to get rid of the pounding headache you probably have right now.”

Sid shakes his head. He’s always been more of a doer, someone who feels better getting active and doing something productive, which is maybe why his concussion battled him so much mentally.

“Give me a couple of minutes to shower and then we’ll go pick up your Mom,” he says, getting an agreeing nod and thank you from Grace in return.

He figures that if anyone asks –namely Peter- he’ll say it’s for the publicity. He’s just doing his job. Or, or maybe this personal tour of the city is another instance of personal indulgence on his behalf.

He’s willing to find out.