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kathierif_ficTitle: Taking Off
Author: Kathie
Series: Ice&Lines
Fandoms: CSI:NY, CSI:Miami, CSI:Las Vegas, Stargate:Atlantis, Stargate:SG1 (mentioned), Criminal Minds, NCIS, Numb3rs
Rating: FRM
Warnings: Multi-fandom hockey AU. Some spoilers for SGA: Sunday, CSI:LV Fannysmacking, CSI:MI: Nailed, CSI:NY Charge of this Post
Disclaimer: Not mine and not even my fault.
Beta: Ginny. Love you lots and lots and lots. Thanks for help and hand-holding.
Summary: The quest for the game begins – can the hockey team from New York win, or will Miami be successful this time? And can the players overcome their difficulties and problems for this game?
Author’s Notes: Inspired by Ginny. Your fault. Huge thanks go to you, for knowledge of grammar and hockey rules.
Huge thanks also to Dee, who graciously allowed me to shamelessly steal huge parts of her wonderful Handcuffs and Hockey verse. If you haven’t read that one already, do so! It’s amazing.
Thank you, you two, for feeding the demons, for vampires, werewolves, brothers, and simple handholding. If this fic is just a tiny little bit good, it’s because of you.
Title, of course, from the song from The Cure.
~~~
• New York: Tony DiNozzo (forward, #13)
"Probie! How are you this fine morning?" Tony DiNozzo smiled widely, showing even, white teeth, and slung an arm around the other man's shoulders.
"Good," Tim McGee answered with a small nod and an affectionate eye roll at the familiar and somewhat hated nickname from his early days as a reporter. "And you? How's your ankle?" he asked back.
"Is that the reporter asking or my sister's ex?" Tony wanted to know and patted Tim's shoulder briefly before pulling back.
Tim shrugged. He didn't bother pointing out that technically, Tony didn't have a sister. He knew that it wouldn't change Tony's attitude towards him or towards the woman they were referring to.
"Both," he admitted. "You have a big game in two weeks."
It was not just any game, he thought quietly, it was one of the biggest games in the season. The hockey teams of New York and Miami had been rivals for as long as Tim could remember, and this game was the one everybody had been looking forward to all season.
"It’s fine," Tony said, although a bit hesitantly. "It feels much better."
Tim nodded, somewhat satisfied with the answer. "How do you feel about the upcoming game?" he then wanted to know, shifting the attention away from Tony's injury and the obvious discomfort the other man was trying to hide.
"Pretty excited," Tony grinned. "We're all looking forward to this. Playing the Miami team is always an experience."
He grinned again, remembering past games, and Tim could not help himself and smiled as well.
"How's Abby?" he then asked, hesitantly.
"You didn't call her? Shame on you, Probie..."
"She's been ignoring my emails."
Tim looked dejected enough for Tony to squeeze his shoulder briefly. "She's good," he answered. "And if she's been ignoring you, she might have her reasons."
Tim nodded. "Honestly, after we broke up, I almost expected you to threaten to beat me up, again," he confessed. He remembered just too well the day he’d picked up Abby for their first date, and Tony had invited him for a little “heart-to- heart,” as he’d called it, and that had left Tim rather nervous for the rest of the night.
"Nah," Tony laughed. "I'd just let Gibbs deal with you."
Tim stopped short at that thought, and Tony laughed again.
"DiNozzo!" a familiar voice snapped behind them.
Tony stiffened slightly. "Coming, boss," he said quickly, winked at Tim, and hurried off. The twinkle in his eyes hadn’t disappeared.
"Gibbs," Tim greeted politely. Blue, piercing eyes stared at him.
"McGee," Gibbs finally answered calmly.
Tim flinched. "You're not going to kill me?" he then asked nervously.
Gibbs didn't blink. "Should I?"
"Abby..." Tim stopped and swallowed before trying again. "Didn't she...?"
Gibbs looked at him for a moment after he trailed off, then he beckoned him closer with one finger. "Come here."
Tim thought for a second before he obeyed and moved closer to the older man. Once he was close enough, Gibbs smacked the back of his head.
"Now was there anything else?" Gibbs asked, acting as if nothing had happened, and Tim shook his head. "No boss. Gibbs, I mean. How do you feel about the upcoming game against the Miami team?"
"Good," Gibbs answered. "Looking forward to it."
"How is Tony's ankle?" Tim wanted to know. "Will he be able to play?"
Gibbs shrugged. "We'll see," he answered cryptically, and, without saying another word, he turned around and left.
Tim shook his head and laughed quietly. He was used to Gibbs’ behavior, and he really was looking forward to the big game himself, so he didn’t mind the older man.
He sure had better things to do than standing around and talking to a reporter.
Tim understood that.
Besides, he was glad that Gibbs hadn’t hurt him.
• Miami: Nick Stokes (goal, #30), John Sheppard (forward, #20)
Nick looked up and sighed. "I hate bugs," he muttered and ran his hands through his short hair.
John sat down next to him on the bench. "Yeah," he agreed and swatted at another of the small animals. "Let's go and hide somewhere."
"Hiding from them?" Nick asked, an eyebrow arched.
"It's all part of my strategy," John answered with a straight face. "Come on, I don't think they will be near the ice." He looked around the locker room and shuddered theatrically. “Ten bucks for whoever eats one of these cockroaches.”
Nick hissed through his teeth and hurried to get his gear on before escaping to the ice, and, with one last glance in the direction of the animal, John followed him.
One of his first memories, or maybe it was just one of his fondest childhood memories, was standing on the ice, vibrating with excitement, his stick clutched tight in his hand. The goal was still taller than he was, to the amusement of his parents, but it didn't matter. He was where he wanted to be, and he was doing what he wanted to do.
Nick tried to remember that feeling of excitement every time he set foot on the ice, and even now, still thinking about the insects that had invaded the locker room, he made a point of stopping as soon as his skates hit the smooth surface of the ice and just breathing in for a second.
John chuckled as he skated past Nick, but to his credit, he didn’t comment on the goaltender’s behavior. It was still quiet, they were the first out today, and John took the chance just to skate, enjoying the speed and the feeling of his muscles working. He always had wanted to fly, playing hockey and scoring goals came closest to that feeling. His ability to pass the puck and to play defensive if needed was just another bonus.
He just loved what he was doing. Poking a puck in the general direction of the empty goal, he couldn’t help the wide grin.
“You ready?” he called back to Nick, who was still stretching out close to the other goal crease.
Nick only laughed.
• New York: Marty Pino (defense, #55), Rodney McKay (defense, #27)
"You're wearing the wrong jersey," Rodney pointed out while leaning back against the wall. Practice had been enjoyable for him, and he felt good.
"What's wrong with my jersey?" Marty asked back and smoothed both hands over his chest.
"It's not even a hockey jersey!"
"And? Where's the problem?"
"You're a hockey player!" Rodney exclaimed, his hands gesticulating wildly.
"And that means I'm not allowed to wear a football jersey?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"You could just as well wear a dress with pretty flowers printed all over it!"
Marty stared at him. "I do not believe you just said that!" he told his line mate. "You have some really sick fantasies!"
Rodney blinked. "What are you implying with that?" he wanted to know. "I don't have any fantasies of you in a dress!"
Marty just laughed and zipped his bag. "You so do," he teased. "And I'll see you tomorrow. I have a date." He tossed the keys to his Porsche into the air and caught them again.
Rodney just stared after him.
"She's going to laugh once she sees your jersey!" he called, but Marty only laughed as he left the room.
• Miami: Nick Stokes (goal, #30), Tim Speedle (forward, #55)
Speed came to a stop in front of the goal in a spray of ice chips.
“Your dislike of insects shows,” he informed Nick and passed the puck back to Ryan.
Nick grunted and took a sip of water from his bottle. “What?” he then asked and moved back in position.
Speed smirked. “You know, insects.”
Nick crouched down, trying to look past the dark-haired forward. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
Ryan passed the puck to Calleigh, who took a shot. Speed moved at the last second, holding his stick just right, and deflected the puck past Nick’s skate, into the net.
“Insects, you know. Like butterflies,” he said and skated off.
Nick stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and laughing. “How long did you think about that one?” he called after his teammate before he concentrated back on the next pair of players trying to score on him.
• New York: Tony DiNozzo (forward, #13)
Tony clenched his teeth against the throbbing pain in his ankle as he leaned against the wall to take his weight off it. No matter what he had told McGee or anyone else, it hurt. The worst thing to this injury was that he knew that he needed to be on the ice in two weeks. This was the most important game in a long time, and he simply couldn't afford missing it because of something small like a twisted ankle. Ducky had told him that he should be fine just in time for the game, but Tony had started to seriously doubt it.
A slap to the back of his head made him straighten quickly. "What was that for?" he wanted to know and rubbed his head. "I didn't tease McGee too bad, I swear." He grimaced. "Besides, I can't play if you give me a concussion."
"If your ankle doesn't get better, you're not playing anyways," Gibbs pointed out calmly.
Tony had no idea how Gibbs had found out that he still was in pain. Gibbs was a mystery in that regard.
Tony stared defiantly at the older man, waiting for Gibbs to make the next move.
Gibbs stared at him for a moment longer before finally saying, "Go see Ducky. And Tony? Don't lie to him this time."
"Got it, boss," Tony sighed and slowly did as he was told.
• Miami: John Sheppard (forward, #20), Greg Sanders (forward, #22), Nick Stokes (goal, # 30)
"Hey."
John sat down next to Greg and fidgeted nervously. "How are you?"
Greg smiled weakly. He could see that Shep was extremely uncomfortable - but he was there, as he always was. Greg was thankful for that. Even now, with practice being over, John still took the time to look out for him.
"Teyla sent you?" he asked and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up, almost like Sheppard's.
John shook his head. "No," he answered. "But I'm pretty sure she'll corner you too. Later."
"Catherine then?"
"No," John laughed. "Nobody sent me." He looked around nervously. "So - you okay?"
Greg's smile disappeared. "I killed a man," he whispered. "Of course I'm not okay."
"You didn't kill him," John firmly insisted, with that quiet intensity that made him such a good player and leader. "All you did was defend yourself. You saved two lives, Greg."
"I killed him," Greg repeated. "I should've waited for the cops to arrive."
"Two more people would be dead then," John patiently said. "You did the right thing."
Greg stared at his feet. "It doesn't feel like the right thing," he explained. "It feels...wrong."
John looked as if he wanted to say something to that statement, but before he could, Greg shook his head and stood up. "I've gotta go," he murmured. "Meeting my lawyer."
John watched quietly as he grabbed his bag, waved half-heartedly at Nick and left. Only then did he sigh and shook his head. "That went well," he muttered.
"Talking to yourself is considered a sign of mental illness, you know," Nick called out over his shoulder.
John chuckled. "Maybe," he agreed. "But I'm sure I'm not insane. I'm not the goalie."
Nick laughed and started to button up his shirt. "How is he?" he asked quietly.
John shrugged and leaned back against the wall. "Shaken up," he replied after a moment. "He did the right thing."
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Nick wondered.
John frowned. "Him, I think," he admitted and shifted slightly. "We have this important game to look forward to; he needs to be okay then."
Nick looked at him as if he wanted to reply, but then he just shook his head and finished getting dressed.
~~~
Both in Miami and in New York, people were getting restless. They were getting ready for the big game. They might joke around with their friends and families, but at the bottom of their hearts, they know what was at stake here.
They were going to be ready.
And they all were determined to win.
tbc...
Author: Kathie
Series: Ice&Lines
Fandoms: CSI:NY, CSI:Miami, CSI:Las Vegas, Stargate:Atlantis, Stargate:SG1 (mentioned), Criminal Minds, NCIS, Numb3rs
Rating: FRM
Warnings: Multi-fandom hockey AU. Some spoilers for SGA: Sunday, CSI:LV Fannysmacking, CSI:MI: Nailed, CSI:NY Charge of this Post
Disclaimer: Not mine and not even my fault.
Beta: Ginny. Love you lots and lots and lots. Thanks for help and hand-holding.
Summary: The quest for the game begins – can the hockey team from New York win, or will Miami be successful this time? And can the players overcome their difficulties and problems for this game?
Author’s Notes: Inspired by Ginny. Your fault. Huge thanks go to you, for knowledge of grammar and hockey rules.
Huge thanks also to Dee, who graciously allowed me to shamelessly steal huge parts of her wonderful Handcuffs and Hockey verse. If you haven’t read that one already, do so! It’s amazing.
Thank you, you two, for feeding the demons, for vampires, werewolves, brothers, and simple handholding. If this fic is just a tiny little bit good, it’s because of you.
Title, of course, from the song from The Cure.
~~~
• New York: Tony DiNozzo (forward, #13)
"Probie! How are you this fine morning?" Tony DiNozzo smiled widely, showing even, white teeth, and slung an arm around the other man's shoulders.
"Good," Tim McGee answered with a small nod and an affectionate eye roll at the familiar and somewhat hated nickname from his early days as a reporter. "And you? How's your ankle?" he asked back.
"Is that the reporter asking or my sister's ex?" Tony wanted to know and patted Tim's shoulder briefly before pulling back.
Tim shrugged. He didn't bother pointing out that technically, Tony didn't have a sister. He knew that it wouldn't change Tony's attitude towards him or towards the woman they were referring to.
"Both," he admitted. "You have a big game in two weeks."
It was not just any game, he thought quietly, it was one of the biggest games in the season. The hockey teams of New York and Miami had been rivals for as long as Tim could remember, and this game was the one everybody had been looking forward to all season.
"It’s fine," Tony said, although a bit hesitantly. "It feels much better."
Tim nodded, somewhat satisfied with the answer. "How do you feel about the upcoming game?" he then wanted to know, shifting the attention away from Tony's injury and the obvious discomfort the other man was trying to hide.
"Pretty excited," Tony grinned. "We're all looking forward to this. Playing the Miami team is always an experience."
He grinned again, remembering past games, and Tim could not help himself and smiled as well.
"How's Abby?" he then asked, hesitantly.
"You didn't call her? Shame on you, Probie..."
"She's been ignoring my emails."
Tim looked dejected enough for Tony to squeeze his shoulder briefly. "She's good," he answered. "And if she's been ignoring you, she might have her reasons."
Tim nodded. "Honestly, after we broke up, I almost expected you to threaten to beat me up, again," he confessed. He remembered just too well the day he’d picked up Abby for their first date, and Tony had invited him for a little “heart-to- heart,” as he’d called it, and that had left Tim rather nervous for the rest of the night.
"Nah," Tony laughed. "I'd just let Gibbs deal with you."
Tim stopped short at that thought, and Tony laughed again.
"DiNozzo!" a familiar voice snapped behind them.
Tony stiffened slightly. "Coming, boss," he said quickly, winked at Tim, and hurried off. The twinkle in his eyes hadn’t disappeared.
"Gibbs," Tim greeted politely. Blue, piercing eyes stared at him.
"McGee," Gibbs finally answered calmly.
Tim flinched. "You're not going to kill me?" he then asked nervously.
Gibbs didn't blink. "Should I?"
"Abby..." Tim stopped and swallowed before trying again. "Didn't she...?"
Gibbs looked at him for a moment after he trailed off, then he beckoned him closer with one finger. "Come here."
Tim thought for a second before he obeyed and moved closer to the older man. Once he was close enough, Gibbs smacked the back of his head.
"Now was there anything else?" Gibbs asked, acting as if nothing had happened, and Tim shook his head. "No boss. Gibbs, I mean. How do you feel about the upcoming game against the Miami team?"
"Good," Gibbs answered. "Looking forward to it."
"How is Tony's ankle?" Tim wanted to know. "Will he be able to play?"
Gibbs shrugged. "We'll see," he answered cryptically, and, without saying another word, he turned around and left.
Tim shook his head and laughed quietly. He was used to Gibbs’ behavior, and he really was looking forward to the big game himself, so he didn’t mind the older man.
He sure had better things to do than standing around and talking to a reporter.
Tim understood that.
Besides, he was glad that Gibbs hadn’t hurt him.
• Miami: Nick Stokes (goal, #30), John Sheppard (forward, #20)
Nick looked up and sighed. "I hate bugs," he muttered and ran his hands through his short hair.
John sat down next to him on the bench. "Yeah," he agreed and swatted at another of the small animals. "Let's go and hide somewhere."
"Hiding from them?" Nick asked, an eyebrow arched.
"It's all part of my strategy," John answered with a straight face. "Come on, I don't think they will be near the ice." He looked around the locker room and shuddered theatrically. “Ten bucks for whoever eats one of these cockroaches.”
Nick hissed through his teeth and hurried to get his gear on before escaping to the ice, and, with one last glance in the direction of the animal, John followed him.
One of his first memories, or maybe it was just one of his fondest childhood memories, was standing on the ice, vibrating with excitement, his stick clutched tight in his hand. The goal was still taller than he was, to the amusement of his parents, but it didn't matter. He was where he wanted to be, and he was doing what he wanted to do.
Nick tried to remember that feeling of excitement every time he set foot on the ice, and even now, still thinking about the insects that had invaded the locker room, he made a point of stopping as soon as his skates hit the smooth surface of the ice and just breathing in for a second.
John chuckled as he skated past Nick, but to his credit, he didn’t comment on the goaltender’s behavior. It was still quiet, they were the first out today, and John took the chance just to skate, enjoying the speed and the feeling of his muscles working. He always had wanted to fly, playing hockey and scoring goals came closest to that feeling. His ability to pass the puck and to play defensive if needed was just another bonus.
He just loved what he was doing. Poking a puck in the general direction of the empty goal, he couldn’t help the wide grin.
“You ready?” he called back to Nick, who was still stretching out close to the other goal crease.
Nick only laughed.
• New York: Marty Pino (defense, #55), Rodney McKay (defense, #27)
"You're wearing the wrong jersey," Rodney pointed out while leaning back against the wall. Practice had been enjoyable for him, and he felt good.
"What's wrong with my jersey?" Marty asked back and smoothed both hands over his chest.
"It's not even a hockey jersey!"
"And? Where's the problem?"
"You're a hockey player!" Rodney exclaimed, his hands gesticulating wildly.
"And that means I'm not allowed to wear a football jersey?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"You could just as well wear a dress with pretty flowers printed all over it!"
Marty stared at him. "I do not believe you just said that!" he told his line mate. "You have some really sick fantasies!"
Rodney blinked. "What are you implying with that?" he wanted to know. "I don't have any fantasies of you in a dress!"
Marty just laughed and zipped his bag. "You so do," he teased. "And I'll see you tomorrow. I have a date." He tossed the keys to his Porsche into the air and caught them again.
Rodney just stared after him.
"She's going to laugh once she sees your jersey!" he called, but Marty only laughed as he left the room.
• Miami: Nick Stokes (goal, #30), Tim Speedle (forward, #55)
Speed came to a stop in front of the goal in a spray of ice chips.
“Your dislike of insects shows,” he informed Nick and passed the puck back to Ryan.
Nick grunted and took a sip of water from his bottle. “What?” he then asked and moved back in position.
Speed smirked. “You know, insects.”
Nick crouched down, trying to look past the dark-haired forward. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
Ryan passed the puck to Calleigh, who took a shot. Speed moved at the last second, holding his stick just right, and deflected the puck past Nick’s skate, into the net.
“Insects, you know. Like butterflies,” he said and skated off.
Nick stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and laughing. “How long did you think about that one?” he called after his teammate before he concentrated back on the next pair of players trying to score on him.
• New York: Tony DiNozzo (forward, #13)
Tony clenched his teeth against the throbbing pain in his ankle as he leaned against the wall to take his weight off it. No matter what he had told McGee or anyone else, it hurt. The worst thing to this injury was that he knew that he needed to be on the ice in two weeks. This was the most important game in a long time, and he simply couldn't afford missing it because of something small like a twisted ankle. Ducky had told him that he should be fine just in time for the game, but Tony had started to seriously doubt it.
A slap to the back of his head made him straighten quickly. "What was that for?" he wanted to know and rubbed his head. "I didn't tease McGee too bad, I swear." He grimaced. "Besides, I can't play if you give me a concussion."
"If your ankle doesn't get better, you're not playing anyways," Gibbs pointed out calmly.
Tony had no idea how Gibbs had found out that he still was in pain. Gibbs was a mystery in that regard.
Tony stared defiantly at the older man, waiting for Gibbs to make the next move.
Gibbs stared at him for a moment longer before finally saying, "Go see Ducky. And Tony? Don't lie to him this time."
"Got it, boss," Tony sighed and slowly did as he was told.
• Miami: John Sheppard (forward, #20), Greg Sanders (forward, #22), Nick Stokes (goal, # 30)
"Hey."
John sat down next to Greg and fidgeted nervously. "How are you?"
Greg smiled weakly. He could see that Shep was extremely uncomfortable - but he was there, as he always was. Greg was thankful for that. Even now, with practice being over, John still took the time to look out for him.
"Teyla sent you?" he asked and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up, almost like Sheppard's.
John shook his head. "No," he answered. "But I'm pretty sure she'll corner you too. Later."
"Catherine then?"
"No," John laughed. "Nobody sent me." He looked around nervously. "So - you okay?"
Greg's smile disappeared. "I killed a man," he whispered. "Of course I'm not okay."
"You didn't kill him," John firmly insisted, with that quiet intensity that made him such a good player and leader. "All you did was defend yourself. You saved two lives, Greg."
"I killed him," Greg repeated. "I should've waited for the cops to arrive."
"Two more people would be dead then," John patiently said. "You did the right thing."
Greg stared at his feet. "It doesn't feel like the right thing," he explained. "It feels...wrong."
John looked as if he wanted to say something to that statement, but before he could, Greg shook his head and stood up. "I've gotta go," he murmured. "Meeting my lawyer."
John watched quietly as he grabbed his bag, waved half-heartedly at Nick and left. Only then did he sigh and shook his head. "That went well," he muttered.
"Talking to yourself is considered a sign of mental illness, you know," Nick called out over his shoulder.
John chuckled. "Maybe," he agreed. "But I'm sure I'm not insane. I'm not the goalie."
Nick laughed and started to button up his shirt. "How is he?" he asked quietly.
John shrugged and leaned back against the wall. "Shaken up," he replied after a moment. "He did the right thing."
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Nick wondered.
John frowned. "Him, I think," he admitted and shifted slightly. "We have this important game to look forward to; he needs to be okay then."
Nick looked at him as if he wanted to reply, but then he just shook his head and finished getting dressed.
~~~
Both in Miami and in New York, people were getting restless. They were getting ready for the big game. They might joke around with their friends and families, but at the bottom of their hearts, they know what was at stake here.
They were going to be ready.
And they all were determined to win.
tbc...