Arrival

                   The driver opened her door and Caroline stepped off the car and into the bustling sidewalk outside Mellon Arena. She took a deep breath and exhaled noisily into the air. Pittsburgh. It was chilly for a summer night. She shivered. Her nerves? Or the cold air? She wasn’t sure.
                   She didn’t know why she was nervous now. When she’d decided to uproot her life in Montreal to come live with her brother in Pittsburgh, she was full of optimism. And she was certain. Certain that this arrangement was for the best and certain that living with her brother would be fun (read: safe). She trusted him, she liked him, and she knew him. They’ve always been close. What more could she ask?
                   As she looked around at the unfamiliar city, however, her optimism seemed foolish. Aside from her brother, she didn’t know anyone in this big city. And her brother played hockey the better part of the week. Hell, the better part of the year. She took another deep breath. She had UPenn. Well, once semester starts in the fall she’ll have UPenn…
                   With that thought in mind, she squared her shoulders, plastered a smile on her face and walked past security into the arena. She stopped at will call to pick up her ticket and went to the gate nearest her seat. An usher showed her to her seat, which was right near the glass and off to the side of what was now the opposing goalie’s net. She squeezed past a small group of somber-looking men in stiff business suits and sat down, scanning the ice for her brother. She spotted number 25 slamming a Lightning into the boards and a smile slowly crept up to her face. Things were looking good.
____________________________________________________________________________________

                   Caroline waited with baited breath as the clocks wound down. The Penguins had to hold on to their one-goal lead for another fifty seconds, but the Lightning were putting a lot of pressure on the net. She cheered along with the crowd when the Pens got the puck and let out a groan when there was a turnover on the blue line. She dropped down, on the edge of her seat, twisting the napkin in her hands. The clock showed ten seconds till the end of the game. All they had to do was clear the puck. She scrunched up her eyes, wishing the puck away from Fleury’s net. Keeping one eye trained on the clock, she willed number 3 to hold the puck for another three seconds. Then, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game and she jumped up and added her voice to the cheering crowd. She could see Max on the ice, leaping into the crowd of players around Fleury. She couldn’t control the smile on her face. She had just sat down again, exhausted from her flight to Pittsburgh and the emotional game, when an usher came around to lead her to the team room.
                   She followed him down two long hallways, around a corner, and through a shady looking door. He pointed wordlessly to another door just inside the one they had come through. She thanked him and he nodded and left her standing alone in the hallway. Americans, pfft, she thought.
                   She steeled herself, staring at the ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ sign on the door. She did not know the state of dress (er, undress) of any of the players inside the room, but she did know that her brother was in there somewhere and whatever his faults (namely, womanizing), he’s never failed to be there for her. Gathering her courage, she knocked on the door. And waited. No one opened the door. No one permitted her to come in. So she knocked again. And then she realized that they probably couldn’t hear her. They were boys and they had just won a hard-fought game. Celebrating. She pulled open the door and poked her head in. As she had guessed, the team was celebrating. Loudly and stinkily. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, but couldn’t help grinning at their boyish antics. Caroline looked around for Max, but failed to find him. So she let herself in. She cringed when the door thudded loudly, hoping against hope that no one would turn around to stare at her, but the boys were completely oblivious to her presence; they were much too preoccupied with snapping each other’s butts with towels and giving each other celebratory noogies. So she tapped the shoulder of the nearest clothed player around her. Nothing happened. She tugged on his pads. He whirled around, towel at the ready, and she cringed, waiting for the stinging smack of the towel. The player stopped himself just in time and leered down at her.

“Hello, how’d you get past security?”

He looked her up and down and she fought the urge to fidget and blush. She glared at him instead and flashed her clearance badge in front of his face.

“I’m not a puck bunny.”

“Good,” he countered, taking a step closer, “I don’t like ‘em.”

She sighed, ignoring his last comment. The other players were starting to stare. Of course Max was nowhere to be found. And after he told her he’d be there too!

“I’m looking for Max.”

The player’s smile drooped a little, “You sure I can’t satisfy you instead?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Caroline took in the man’s blue eyes, blonde hair and Travolta-esque chin. A Staal. Figures. She rolled her eyes, “Not unless your last name’s Talbot.”

“Damn, my name fails me again.” He laughed. “Max’s in there.” He pointed towards a door. “Shower room,” he explained.

She looked at him expectantly. He sighed and walked over to the door, opening it wide. “Yo, Max! Some hot chick’s here for you, you lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

Max came out of the shower room, still in the bottom half of his under armor. He scowled at Jordan, “Shut up, Staalsy. Where is she?”

“Can’t say. You told me to shut up.” Jordan grinned.

Caroline rolled her eyes and shoved Staal out of the way to put herself in Max’s line of sight. She grinned at him.

He shrieked like a little girl when he saw her. Giggling, she threw herself into his outstretched arms, making him stagger back a step. “Maxie!”

He laughed, “I missed you too kid.”

“It’s been, what? Six months since we last saw each other? I forgot how tall you are.”

“Kid, I don’t even break 6. You’re just short.”

“Hey! I’m 5’4”! I think that’s respectable.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep tonight, I guess.” He lifted her off the floor and hugged her to his chest.

She smiled and pressed her face into his neck, breathing in his familiar – “Ew, Max, you stink.”

“That, ma cherie, is the stench of a champion.”

“Yeah, a champion pig.”

“That’s why I was trying to take a shower before you got here. S’not my fault you’re so impa –“

“Hey, ‘Maxie,’ you gonna introduce her to us or what?”

Still keeping her in the circle of his arms, Max turned her around to face the team. “Guys, this is Caroline. My sister.”

She smiled and waved. The team gaped.

“You have a sister?”

“That’s your sister?”

“She looks… holy flying fuck, man, you definitely got the shorter straw in the genetics department.”

Caroline laughed and looked up at Max who was looking daggers at the guys.

“You guys, let me repeat. This is my sister. My little sister. She’s off-limits. You know how you don’t touch the Cup unless you win it? Yeah, you don’t touch her unless you have a death wish.”

“Max! I am not a piece of meat. I’m right here, so stop talking about me as if I wasn’t.”

Max had the effrontery to shush her and plow right on. “She’s going to be hanging around here a lot until fall. Keep yourselves clothed.”

“Ugh, shut up Max. Go get dressed. I’ll wait outside.” She shoved Max into the shower room, yelling at him to use shampoo and conditioner. Then, she walked over to the door that would lead to the hallway, and made to open it. A chorus of “NO!”s and “DON’T!”s followed. She jumped, startled.

A hand appeared to prevent her from opening the door. “Uh, you don’t want to do that.”

Caroline followed the hand to the face of its owner and looked up at Sidney Crosby. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from blushing, she tilted her head to the side and said, “Uh, no offense, but you guys really smell. I need… fresh air.”

“If you go out of this room, you’ll need more than fresh air, trust me. There’s a horde of reporters outside and they’ll devour you the minute you walk out.”

“Oh.” She kicked herself mentally. What an engaging response!

“Yeah, I’m surprised Max didn’t warn you actually. But then again, he’s a media whore so…”

She laughed, “Yeah, that sounds like Max. Attention-grabbing’s his favorite sport.”

Sidney laughed, “And what’s yours?”

Caroline debated whether she should give a straight answer, and then decided against it. “Taking Max’s attention away!” She replied triumphantly.

Sidney laughed again, “Listen, how about you hang around here until it’s time for the reporters to come in?”

“But then, they’ll see me here. Won’t it be the same?”

He pondered that for a while, “I think you can manage to slip out while Gronk or someone else distracts them.”


Oh, God, he’s humble… He knows he’s the bigger distraction. “Sounds like a plan.”

                   Sidney showed her the way to Max’s stall and Caroline sat down on the seat underneath Max’s cubby. She looked at his equipment in fascination. She was so proud, so terribly proud of Max. Hockey had always been his passion, but when he had left their aunt and uncle’s home in Montreal to play for the Rouyn-Noranda Huskies, she had been terribly upset. Having lost both her parents at an early age, she had been very attached to Max. Even at the age of 16, however, he had been mature enough to explain to her his reasons for leaving. “One day little Caroline, he’d said, “I’ll lift the Stanley Cup and you’ll be there to see it!” And she’d understood his drive because, although she loved (watching) hockey, she would never play it. She had her passions (books, music, watching hockey) and he had his. His passions required travel and an intense schedule, and hers required daily trips to the library and an iPod.
                   Even in her head, she snickered as she thought that. She was such a nerd. She didn’t know at what point in her life she became bookish. When she was little, she was precocious and outgoing and never hesitated to give anyone a piece of her mind. As she grew older, however, she stopped playing sports (she had been Varsity captain of her high school’s lacrosse team), she stopped making dirty jokes (okay, she amended, not completely), and she definitely became a little more… shy. Well, not shy exactly, it just took her some time to get comfortable around new people. She sighed.

“Heavy thoughts?”

                   She jumped and looked around to find Crosby sitting in the stall next to her (it was his), freshly showered and gelled and everything. She shook her head to answer his question then added, “I was just… reflecting. Seeing Max… here. It’s… well, it’s the NHL. Seems like a dream to me.”

“You’ve never seen Max play before?”

“Oh, no, I have. When he was less of an egoist.”

Sidney grinned at that.

“I went to most of your Montreal games.” Caroline added.

Sidney frowned. “Funny, he never introduced you to us.”

“Yeah, well, what with the media and the Pens’ schedule, there’s usually not enough time after a road game. He’s always exhausted. Mostly he comes home and crashes when he’s in Montreal.”

“Do you follow the team?”

“Sometimes.”

Sidney shook his head in mock-chagrin, “You’re not a fan?”

“Not really, I mostly just watch ‘cause of Max. The Canadiens, however, I worship.”

“I did too, growing up. They haven’t been doing so well the past couple of years though.”

“So?? I’m not a band-wagoner!” She shrieked, immediately offended.

“Hey, I was only making an observation.” Sid grinned, then looked her up and down. She was wearing one of Max’s jerseys. He had sent it to her to wear to this game. “You look better in black and gold though.”

She blushed and immediately chided herself for being weak. Dimpled smile and bubblegum lips. But don’t let yourself fall for it. He’s being nice. To change the awkward air that she had suddenly created between them, she pointed to Max who’d just come out of the showers wearing a cardigan.

“Honestly, you guys let him dress like that?” She had directed the question at Sidney, but Max answered.

“Sis, I’m a grown man and I don’t have to ask anyone before I make any decisions of the sartorial kind. Plus, I look good.”

Cheeky bastard. “You certainly don’t have to ask, Maxie,” she replied, using the childhood nickname he abhorred on purpose, “But it’d be nice if you didn’t pick outfits appropriate for a high schooler trying to find his nonexistent ‘style’.”

“If you don’t shut up right now, I’m not taking you home.” Max glared.

“Aunt Veronica would never cook for you again if you just left me here. You love your stomach way too much to deprive it of such pleasure.”

“Speaking of stomachs,” Jordan cut in, “Mine’s hungry... for booze. What say we head to Diesel and celebrate?”

Caroline peeked at Max. He looked like a kid making a decision between the candy store and the grocery store.

Max gestured miserably with his head towards where she was sitting, “She’s underage here. And tired. You guys go, we’re gonna head home.”

“Aw, come on. The drinking age in Montreal is eighteen. It’s not like she’s never drank before,” Jordan looked toward Caroline for confirmation.

She nodded.

Max flinched, “She can’t get in here anyway.”

“Max, you know there’s not a bar within 30 miles of the city that won’t serve you and whoever you bring.” Everyone looked toward Sidney who had spoken without looking up from his hands where he was fiddling with his phone. Max frowned in his direction, shooting him a look that clearly said, “Man, whose side are you on?”

Following that, Caroline said, “Look, Max, you go. I’ll have the driver take me home. I have the address. Just give me a key.”

Max shook his head, “No good. I don’t want to leave you alone your first night here. And what are you going to eat? You can’t cook for your life.” He laughed.

She glared at him, “I can too! I can make eggs and… and stuff…” She trailed off when she realized how lame that sounded. “Whatever, I’ll pick up something on the way. Go have fun. I’m too tired anyway.”

“Alright, how ‘bout this, guys: instead of a bar, we go to Flower’s house and celebrate there?” Offered Jordan.

“Thanks for volunteering my house, Staalsy.” Fleury mumbled. Surreal, Caroline thought. That’s Marc
Andre Fleury!

Max vetoed that option too, “We’ll just go to my house. I have enough JD to get us through tonight.”

“Do you have gin too?” Caroline piped up, testing Max.

Max shook his head, grinning, “No alcohol for you, little sister. What would Tante Veronica say?”

“Probably that you’re being a hypocrite.”

He looked thoughtful for a second then said, “Brother’s prerogative?”

Caroline just shook her head. Oh, brother.
 Author's Note: 
Well, I hope you liked it. I honestly don't know where this is going, but I do know that it's going somewhere interesting. I started this fanfic mainly because of my best friend who complained about the lack of good Sidney Crosby fanfics on the internet. Plus, she's too lazy to write her own. Just to clear things up, my bff will NOT be co-writing this fic. It's all me. She just wants to read. She may help with ideas if I do ever get really bad writer's block. 
If there are any events/plot points you'd like to see, tell me! I might be able to work them in. 
Love it? Hate it? Feel free to offer (constructive) criticism. It'll help me learn and make this fic better.
- Qtip