Good Night, Moon

Alex was right.
When Toad appeared in the doorway of the dressing room, the team chorused an apology, choreographed by Tomas Vokoun. All Jerica had to say was to beg them to not take out James. But in their minds, she had said nothing about targeting him for hits in defensive plays.
You know how hockey players are; they stick to their word, even if their word is twisted just a bit.

But now the game had to begin.

Toad nervously sat in the locker. Instead of sitting in the box, or in the crowd, or on the bench, she was curled up in Nick’s stall in the dressing room with Dale Hunter’s iPad with the game playing.
Though she could hear it from inside the room, she wanted to watch it from the iPad.

James Neal with a nasty hit from Ward right there. But he keeps going-Neal with the puck! To Malkin! Back to Neal! Score!

Throughout the game, Toad found it hard to breathe. Every little hit delivered, to Neal and to any player, made her cringe and she knew both teams were out for more than just a W on their charts.

“Fuck off, Ovi, you dumb bitch.”
“You wanna go!?”
“Neal, no.” Sidney Crosby shoved number 18 into the bench and Nicklas Backstrom took number 8 to his.
“You told Toad you wouldn’t.”
“He fucking started it!”
“Go.”
The idea on the ice was to keep James Neal away from the hard hits of Ovechkin, Backstrom, and Green. It wasn’t going well because twenty of the thirty-eight hits so far in the game were on Neal. And it was only the first five of the second period.
“Geno’s line! Tang’s pair!” They jumped over the board and Neal took the puck from Asham and skated down the ice. He slipped Kunitz the puck right before Backstrom slammed him into the board.
“Leave Jerica the fuck alone.”
“I kissed her twice.” James shoved him off and skated off after his teammates.

When the players left the ice for the third period intermission, they all sat quietly in the dressing room. Toad had left Nick’s stall to sit on the ground in front of the play board.
There had been a small fight between Nick and James on the ice and Toad was still up in arms about it.
But the silence wasn’t new, they were always quiet before coach came back to yell at them for their piss poor job skating the puck past Brent Johnson and their stupid agenda of taking out James Neal.
Once Dale Hunter did come out to yell at them, he allowed Jerica the floor. It was a thing, for them, that the person standing over the eagle’s head was talking and you didn’t speak a word.
“Please stop going after him. I saw what you did, Nick. James wasn’t doing anything but you still went after him and you still lost.” Nick bit his tongue.
“Alex, please, leave Sidney and the rest of their team out of this. It’s not between you all, it’s between me and James.”
She bit her lip, hoping she’d not missed anything, and stepped away from the eagle.
“I’m sorry, Toad…” As they left, each player gave her a kiss to the head and a promise to behave. Dale hugged her and followed his boys out.

The third period was less physical than the first two and the Capitals came back and won, 5-3, adding to the sting of James’s injuries. In their dressing room, Dan muttered to the team about what they didn’t do and what they didn’t do enough. He then dismissed them.
The team went on undressing, silent over the loss that could have been avoided had they not worried so much about James Neal being a target. That’s where the Capitals had the advantage.
“What the fuck!?” The team jumped as Jerica walked through their dressing room and straight towards James Neal. Some of the guys covered themselves, though none of them were completely naked, and quickly made their ways to the showers to avoid her watching.
“Jerica, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry.”
James scoffed. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t set the damn dogs on me.”
“I kind of did.”
“By telling them? You’re supposed to tell your best friends stuff like that.”
“They’re not supposed to react like that.”
“They’re a hockey team, if they didn’t, I’d be worried.”
“James, please listen to me.”
“I am.”
“Then stop talking.”
“This isn’t your dressing room.”
“Technically it is because you’re in the Capital’s visitor dressing room.” He bit his lip, damn, she was right.
“What?”
“Come to the home dressing room when you’re done.”
“What the hell is the ingenious of that!?” But she was already walking out the door. “I’m gonna get fucking killed.”
But he owed her enough to wander to the room where he hoped he’d never see the inside of. Few players were left, but they didn’t notice the Penguin walking in. He glanced around to see Jerica laughing with Mike Green. James rubbed his shoulder remembering the way he’d slammed him into the boards.
“Toad, he’s here!” James jumped and turned to Nicklas Backstrom, who kept walking to his stall.
“Toad…?” Jerica turned, excusing herself from Mike and went over to him.
“This is my dressing room. And when someone’s standing at the head of the eagle,” James looked down, jumping back effectively off the eagle. “That means that they’re talking and that you can’t interrupt them.”
He nodded, now understanding part of her attitude toward him interjecting.
“The idea was that I was at the head of the eagle, but you’re sort of standing there.”
“I-uh-I don’t really have anything to say…”
“Then…?” He stepped back, around the symbol, and she jumped over the wing to the head. The captain of the Capitals got the team’s attention and they quieted.
“Thank you, for not hurting James. More than bruises and such. I know how…you all are, but James didn’t deserve that.” Looking at the team, James could see them withholding their opinion. “And good job tonight. Another W on the board and on to Toronto next game.” The team cheered and slowly cleared out.
“James, you can’t go around kissing people.”
“I don’t have a good reason as to why I kissed you the first time.”
“Don’t interrupt me.” He bit his lip. “Especially people who you haven’t seen since you were eighteen. Doing things like that get you hurt.”
“Like when you slapped me-sorry.” He tried to chuckle, but she gave him a short look.
“Now, I’m done.”
James glanced around, all of her players were gone.
“Can I…?”
She nodded, stepping back.
“Jerica, I saw you last when I was nineteen. I was just drafted. I was finally leaving home and you looked so beautiful.” James could see it in her face, she wanted to stop him. “And there were these guys, talking about you all night. They kept talking shit about how tight you probably were and I got mad. So I went over, asked you to dance, you didn’t want to, but I convinced you. I’d never seen a girl so beautiful before. And you danced like a fucking doll. Oh, god, I loved it. And I got the privilege of taking you home that night. Go on, say something.”
“I’m not beautiful. And I couldn’t dance worth shit. And taking me home is not a privilege, it’s a chore.”
“I beg to differ,” James said before grabbing her in his arms and kissing her hard. She gasped, letting her mouth fall open to his wimp and he dipped her back, kissing her like a solider did his bride.
And she didn’t have one argument about it.