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It was not a sense of “you know what I should do?  I should write fic.”  Rather, it was the sense that I really, really, really had to write this.  I feel almost like I’m trivializing the situation, but it’s really that I just like to think about it like this.

Title:  Untitled

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Stevie and Boyd are, at the moment, owners of themselves.  This is a work of fiction and I do not mean to imply anything about the actual people involved.



 
I have, at no point over the past four years (God, four years? really?) thought that managing the public part of this relationship would be easy.  I’ve always known I was going to have to make sacrifices.  Still, all that being said, it pisses me off immensely that I can’t be in the room for the conference.  Two years ago, I could have been there without arousing too much suspicion, but now, playing for another team, it would just look weird.
 
So, I watch from the hotel room, box of Kleenex at the ready, but somehow, I don’t cry.  I get choked up when he does, I have to wipe my eyes when, in typical Stevie understatement, he says “I did the best I could do,” but I don’t cry.  He looks so content, so settled, that I can’t get too upset.
 
Of course, once he’s done answering questions and leaves, I am on the edge of my seat (well, the edge of my bed) waiting for a phone call, a text message, ANYTHING from ANYBODY to distract me from this wait.  I am not a good waiter, especially not when I just want to get up and…and…okay, I don’t know what exactly I would do, but I would do something.
 
I am about thirty seconds away from calling Dandy to whine at him when there is a soft knock on the door.  The cautious hockey player looks through the peephole to find out who it is, but I am not what you’d call cautious in situations of extreme stress.  I quickly open the door and, thankfully, it is Stevie.
 
I barely remember to pull him into the room and close the door before throwing my arms around him.  He holds me back tightly, face in my neck.  We haven’t seen each other in months, and even if there was nothing else going on today, it would feel so good to get to hold him again.  Today, though, today is important. 
 
“You okay?” I whisper into his hair.  He seemed fine, but I need to know.
 
I can feel him smile.  “I’m a little bit embarrassed.”
 
I think I should be looking at him for this conversation, but I can’t let him go.  “Why are you embarrassed?”
 
“My speech.”  Stevie shifts a bit in my arms.  “It was rather…rambly.”
 
I have to grin; it kinda was.  “It was very…you.”
 
He pulls away, and it’s a little bit painful.  “Are you making fun of me?”  He is smiling, and his amusement is reflected in his eyes.
 
I hold up my hands defensively.  “I would never!  I was just saying that you have never been the world’s best public speaker, and your speech was a very accurate representation of that.  If it had been all polished it would’ve been weird.”
 
He pretends to think about this.  “Alright.  I guess I can forgive you.”
 
“Good.”  I have to hold him again, and somehow we end up flopped across the bed, his head on my chest.  “I missed you,” I admit.
 
He leans up to kiss me.  “Missed you too.  I’ll have to come visit you sometime.”  His forehead wrinkles; I can tell he’s just remembering.  “Any idea where you’re gonna end up?”
 
I shrug.  “Not really.  I just wanna end up somewhere.”  I force myself to smile.  “If it comes down to it, I could help you with the housework.”
 
He snickers.  “Would you wear a maid costume for me?”
 
I grin, for real now.  “For you?  No.  You would enjoy it far too much.” 
 
He pushes me gently.  “You are not a nice person.”
 
I just hold him tighter.  “I’m nice.  I just like teasing you.”
 
He has no response, and we just lie there together.  I run my fingers through his hair and it’s so quiet but so perfect.  I would never have expected it, but after I signed with Phoenix, Stevie and I spend most of our time together not talking, not doing anything, just being together.  I think we enjoy it more than any other thing we could be doing.
 
Still, though, I have to break the silence.  The words are inside of me and I have to say them.  “I am so proud of you.”  It sounds so cheesy and I blush.
 
He looks up at me and smiles softly, in that way where he knows I’m being a dork and he knows I know I’m being a dork and he still loves me anyway.  “Thank you.” 
 
“You’ll always be my favorite player.”  Might as well go for broke now.
 
He laughs.  “Well, I’d hope so.”
 
I grin back at him.  “Really though, I just…you’re….” I have no words for everything he means to me, not only as my partner, but as my role model, the man I’ve looked up to for years.
 
He kisses me, shutting me up.  “I love you.  You’re going to get me all emotional again.  Please stop.”
 
I squeeze him, kissing him harder and deeper.  “Okay, okay.  I love you too.”
 
We go back to laying there together, and everything has changed; he’s retired now, moving on to the next stage in his life, but we’re still together, still wrapped up in each other’s arms, and I know that the basic things, the important things, have still stayed the same, and it’s going to be okay, he’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay, and I am filled with unexpected contentment because he’s happy and that’s all that matters.