Rating: T
Relationships: Marcus Johansson & Evgeny Kuznetsov, Nicklas Backstrom & Andre Burakovsky & Marcus Johansson
Characters: Marcus Johansson, Nicklas Backstrom, Andre Burakovsky, Evgeny Kuznetsov, Christian Djoos, Alex Ovechkin, TJ Oshie, Washington Capitals Ensemble, mentions of many New Jersey Devils
Words: 2k
Summary: Marcus is traded to the Devils, and no one is happy about it, least of all Marcus himself. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do after being ripped away from the organization he’s played with his entire career. He’s having trouble adjusting; after all, this team isn’t his family.
This is my first real attempt at writing fic. I’ve got ideas for longer works, but I’ve completed something shorter just to see how it is. This hasn’t been beta’d, as I don’t really have people to do that, so forgive me for that. Let me know what you think and I can work on some improvements. Also, this story is not a happy one, it’s barely even heartwarming. Enjoy!
Some trades just worked out for the better of everyone. Sometimes, you just clicked. When TJ was traded to the Capitals, it was like he’d been in Washington his entire career. He got along with the players, made quick friends, and fit in nicely and carved out his role on the ice. Whatever combination of people and personalities just worked, and everyone was happy.
The same couldn’t be said for Marcus.
He was sleeping when he was traded. When he woke up, the face of his phone was an endless stream of texts and notifications; the Internet had had hours to brew about this before he saw it for himself.
The hardest part was telling Amelia; she had been getting so comfortable, she’d made so many friends, and he knew she enjoyed it here, like he did. She wasn’t going to be happy. She took it remarkably well, and Marcus made sure to thank her for that; even if Marcus wasn’t showing it on the outside, he was torn to shreds on the inside.
The Washington Capitals were all he’d ever known. Seven years he’d spent in a Caps uniform, working through the Caps organization. And now all of that was gone. Washington had always been his home in America. Now he’d have to move to a new city (Jersey, of all places), learn a new system, and, worst of all, play with different teammates. That was the part he was dreading the most. After spending seven years with the same organization, he’d grown up and played with the same guys. And they were so close. They felt like his family. And now he wouldn’t be seeing them anymore.
The entire thing shook him, to say the least. Marcus wasn’t one to toot his own horn, but he’d felt like an important part of the team, somewhat. He’d just recently signed a new deal, he’d had a career year, and life was looking good. And then the rug was yanked out from under him. Logically, he knew that it was all a part of the business, but he couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t important, that he didn’t matter, that they didn’t care.
He didn’t get a chance to say a proper goodbye to any of his teammates. It was the offseason, he was in Sweden, and everyone was spread out all over the world. Teammates flooded his phone with messages. Some of them were already gone, like Schmidty in the expansion draft and Alzy, Stick, Winnie and Shatty to free agency, and they’d already said their farewells, but everyone else had a lot to say to him. Some were polite and gave him a general, “This sucks, but I wish you the best” (Nisky, Lars, Carly, etc.), some were more tearful (Burky), and some swore vengeance and made plans to kidnap him from Jersey (Kuzy, Whip). Marcus accepted their sentiments with gratitude, and he said his goodbyes the best he could, but he didn’t know if he was saying the proper things. What in the world do you even say to your teammates when you’re traded? “I’m leaving, even though I really don’t want to, and I hope I beat you guys the next time I see you”? It didn’t feel right, all these goodbyes. He didn’t want it to be the end.
He texted Nicky almost endlessly. Nicky had always been one of his rocks, and now he needed him more than ever. He assured Marcus that this wasn’t his fault, and that everything would be okay. If nothing else, it was still just hockey. Marcus appreciated Nicky’s calming words, but they didn’t calm him as much as they should have. No offense to Nicky, but he’d never been traded. He didn’t speak from experience.
TJ, on the other hand, did. Marcus started texting him a bunch, too, asking for advice on dealing with the trade, moving to a new city, and meeting new teammates. And TJ was very helpful. Albeit, TJ was a lot more extroverted and much less awkward than Marcus, so this was probably all a breeze for him, but it helped Marcus. One of TJ’s pieces of advice stuck with him: “The other guys will know you’re coming, and they will reach out to you like Ovi and Carly did for me. Let them help you, and just go with the flow.” He wanted to wholeheartedly trust TJ, but he knew that not everyone was Ovi.
The Devils were nice and everything. Before training camp, he’d gotten texts from Andy Greene and Adam Henrique welcoming him to the team and saying how excited they were to meet him and work with him. But even as camp got started, he didn’t really feel like he fit in. There was no one he really gelled with. In Washington, Nicky had always been there to guide him, and Ovi had been like a big giant mama bear. But this wasn’t Washington. He had to throw everything he’d ever known out the window.
The guys were nice. Greene, Henrique, Schneider, Zajac, and even Taylor Hall all tried their best to make him feel welcome and a part of the team. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. Putting on the Devils jersey still felt wrong. It didn’t help his acclimation that New Jersey didn’t have a single Swede on their roster. He’d lived in the States for a long time, it wasn’t like he didn’t know English, but it would have helped him just a little if there was someone he could speak Swedish to. A fellow countryman, to help him feel just a little bit at home.
He almost cried when a young Swede made the team out of training camp. In an ideal world, Marcus would have loved for a Swede closer to his age to help him in the transition to a new team, but at that point Marcus would have taken anything. The kid was nineteen - younger than fucking Burky. Marcus took Bratt under his wing, of course; even if he was almost ten years older than him, he desperately wanted another Swede around. But he wasn’t the same as Burky - no one was the same as Burky.
They faced the Capitals within the first two weeks of the season. Part of Marcus wished it wasn’t until later so he could be more settled before seeing the whole team again, but part of him just wanted to get it out of the way so he could move on from those emotions (though he knew the real emotional turmoil would come in December, when he’d go to DC the first time as a visitor). But, in his heart, all he really wanted was to see the guys from the team - the guys he’d come to know as his family until he was ripped away.
The night before the game, he arranged to have dinner with a bunch of the guys. He was texting back and forth with Nicky - there were going to be a lot of them, they all wanted to see him again.
At the restaurant, Nicky and Burky arrived first, and they brought along the new Swede they’d adopted, a blueline rookie named Christian Djoos (a rookie who was somehow older than Burky); Marcus remembered seeing him at a couple of training camps, and their past interactions were brief at most. Nicky and Burky insisted on bringing him along, wanting him to meet Marcus and for them to become a “proper Swedish family,” according to Burky. Those particular words pulled tightly at Marcus’s heartstrings.
The rest of the guys piled in quickly after that. Ovi was there, of course, enveloping Marcus in a bone-crushing hug radiating all the warmth and joy that had been absent from Marcus’s life since July. Kuzy was there too, absolutely overjoyed to see his longtime liney. Marcus would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been severely missing that smile and the patented Kuzy humor. And it was just like Kuzy to greet him by loudly kissing both of his cheeks.
Completing the group was Braden, Dima, Carly, TJ, Nisky, Whip, and Beags. So many of these guys had shared the ice with him for his entire career, up until now. He refused to admit that there were any sort of tears coming to his eyes.
The night went on, they ate and laughed and caught up, and for awhile, it was like Marcus had never left and nothing had changed. He felt a sense of comfort and camaraderie he had not felt even for a moment since he’d donned a Devils uniform.
All too soon, a bunch of the guys had to go. Braden, Carly, TJ, Nisky, Whip, and Beags left en masse, giving Marcus big hugs and fist bumps and promising to check him when they saw him on the ice tomorrow. Ovi and Dima left shortly after, the two Russians giving him warm salutations as they left.
Just the five of them remained. The young Djoos, who had been fairly quiet for the majority of the meal, still looked awkward, as if he wasn’t sure what he should be saying or doing. Marcus couldn’t really talk, he knew that he had been the same when he was a rookie, but he did want to try to get Djoos to talk to him eventually. It was only when Marcus turned to him and asked him a question in Swedish that he finally relaxed and cracked what might have been a smile. Though the Swedish did elicit a hurt lament from Kuzy, claiming that they’d forgotten about him.
Marcus laughed and said a few more nonsense sentences to the others in Swedish before Kuzy threw a roll at him, demanding, “Did all my assists mean nothing, Jojo?” Marcus caved for his favorite liney and reverted back to English.
Eventually, though, Kuzy had to leave. Marcus really hated to see him go. Kuzy pulled him into an embrace that was surprisingly tender, saying to him softly, “Miss you lots, Jojo. Nothing like playing hockey with you on my wing.”
This time, Marcus couldn’t hold back the tears. He didn’t care. “Miss my favorite center, Kuz.”
They pulled away, and Kuzy cracked a joke about how he was going to dangle on Marcus tomorrow, but Marcus could see that he was getting emotional. He wiped the tears away from his eyes as Kuzy left the restaurant.
He sat back down, and Burky pulled Marcus close and held him there, as he was oft to do. The mood in the room was a lot more somber than it was just thirty minutes ago.
Nicky, with that soft yet calculating gaze of his, looked Marcus up and down. “Are you really doing okay, Jojo?” he asked, the conversation reverting back to Swedish for the remainder of the night.
Marcus sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you, Nicky...it hasn’t been easy. I’ve been in the same place my entire career. And then overnight, it’s a new city, a new organization, new people...it’s a lot to adjust to. The guys are nice, but it’s been hard to really connect with them. I know I’ll get there, but it hasn’t happened yet and it’s frustrating. And it shakes your confidence. You sign a new deal, and then the next year, you’re traded...it kind of makes it seem like they don’t want you.”
“Management doesn’t know what the fuck it’s doing,” Nicky said bluntly. “Shelling out all that money. Not that those guys aren’t worth it, but it was a disaster waiting to happen. I didn’t think you were going to be the consequence, though.”
Marcus had thought about this a lot. Clearly he wasn’t cut out to be a GM, because he had no idea what he would have done. The part of him that’s crippled by self-doubt believed that trading him was the only option, but he knew there were other things that could have been done to avoid taking him away from his family. Too late to change any of that now, though.
“Burky cried when you were sent away,” Nicky said, causing Burky to turn a shade of deep red. “He called me and he cried, wondering why they were taking his big brother away from him.”
“I did not!” Burky protested.
“Glad to know you love me so much,” Marcus teased, jabbing the bit of elbow that wasn’t trapped in Burky’s cuddle into Burky’s ribs.
“Of course I love you, Mackan. We’re family.”
“He talks about you a lot,” Djoos finally piped in. “I’ve heard so much about the great, wonderful Jojo, who is funny and kind and mean and smart and was the best brother and had the world’s greatest beard.”
Marcus didn’t know how to respond. That’s high praise, even from Burky. He was finding that his eyes were having trouble staying dry.
“I think he’s overselling me, I don’t think I’m quite all that.”
“I would never tell a lie about you, Jojo. It’s all true,” Burky said, that big, dorky smile on his face.
Marcus didn’t have a rational thought for the rest of the night. He was pretty sure he cried, but that was yet to be confirmed. He remembered a group hug, even Djoos joined in. He vaguely remembered leaving the restaurant and walking the Swedes back to their hotel; Nicky gave him some kind of uplifting “We’re still here, we’re still family, it’ll all be okay,” Burky gave him a hug like he never wanted to let him go, and Djoos gave him an awkward yet polite “It was very nice to meet you, I hope to see you again sometime.” But again, Marcus couldn’t really remember; it was like his brain gave out and his emotions took control, and he couldn’t clearly remember what happened for the life of him.
They lost really badly to his old team. They didn’t play well, and frankly it was quite messy. Marcus’s heart stopped when Dima was hit like that, and he almost fought his own teammates himself, but nothing could have prepared him for fucking Burky stepping in and fighting. Complete and utter shock. Guess things had changed since he’d last rocked the red. But then Whip stepped in and pounded the original offender once he left the box, so the world wasn’t completely out of whack.
Marcus knew it would take a long time to truly become comfortable with his new team. Probably longer than it would for most people, given his specific circumstances. But he had to hold out hope that he would get there. Because the thought of playing out his tenure with his new team never truly being comfortable and never truly feeling like he belonged...the thought was unbearable.
The Washington Capitals practiced at MedStar Capitals Iceplex on Monday morning before jumping on a plane at Dulles Airport, lifting off for
“Yeah, [Alex Ovechkin] texted me earlier in the day and just asked if I wanted to get sushi once they landed,” Leonard said to the Capitals’ Mike Vogel.
Though, Leonard admitted the message came at a chaotic time.
“I read [the text] in the (Conte Arena) locker room,” Leonard noted, the actual location where he put pen to paper on his new deal. “All the guys were in there. It was probably five to 10 minutes before I actually signed.”
Leonard’s Eagles teammates urged caution when replying to the text, as it came from an unknown number with the sender purporting themselves to be Alex Ovechkin — one of the hockey’s greatest players who is five goals away from breaking the NHL goals record. Perhaps it could be a scam or an early April Fools’ joke.
“They were like, ‘What? I don’t know if you should respond to that,'” Leonard said. “I was like, ‘I kinda have to.’ It was pretty cool.”
Once Leonard was done making his NHL dream a reality, he made the 15-minute drive to meet the Capitals at a Boston-area sushi bar, trading stories and rubbing shoulders with players from the Eastern Conference’s best team.
“Just hanging out with those guys, it was pretty cool,” Leonard said.
But eating raw fish wasn’t all that was on the menu.
“Ovi wanted to see where I went to school, so (we) went there for probably 30 minutes to an hour, just to show him, and he loved it,” Leonard said.
You are Ryan Leonard. You have just been painfully eliminated from your tournament by the same team that eliminated you last time. Some unidentified number claiming to be Alex Ovechkin hits your phone and wants to take you out for sushi. All of your bros see this. You drive out to the sushi bar and it IS Alex Ovechkin. You and your bros eat sushi with him and HIS bros. Now Alex Ovechkin wants you to show him around YOUR school. You take him and the rest of the team to a bar where they drink and sing Bandz A Make Her Dance, and presumably enact some kind of buddy hijinks college comedy film scenario.
You're also supposed to start your first NHL game the next day.
