How does Brad feel about Bobby choosing ✨violence✨
Right, so, I recognize that Brad was not on the ice for this fight! But I had a request, so here is the FOS version. ;)
Fictional story below~
“Fucking- get off of me,” Brad spits, wrestling Toffoli’s arms. His chest is burning, the full weight making his ribs creak. “Ow, fuck,” he cries, another player crushing his hips and legs.
He struggles, fighting to free himself from the pile. A punch lands, then another. “Guys,” he grunts, fighting blindly, searching for a friendly jersey.
His head whips around. He gasps. Ned smirks and throws his blocker again. Brad wheezes as his breath is knocked out of him, face burning. Rodrigues reaches for him but is tugged away, falling over and disappearing into the pile. Brad yanks, but he’s stuck, arms stretched out.
Suddenly, the crowd roars. And Bobby-
Bobby is gliding down the ice towards him.
Brad gapes.
“No way,” he hears Mackie say somewhere around his feet.
The two goalies collide in a flurry of fists.
Brad is dropped unceremoniously. He kneels there, on the ice, mouth open. Bobby throws a punch, then another, ducking under Ned’s fist. He snarls in the opposing goalie’s face.
“Brad,” Mackie hisses. “Brad, Bobby!”
“I know,” Brad says numbly. He grabs Mackie’s arm and drags him out of the pile, still staring.
Ned throws a punch that Bobby ducks, the crowd howling. They grapple, twisting and turning on the ice, then topple over and hit the ice, hard.
Brad scrambles for a stick and hits it on the ice, over and over, awed.
Bobby shakes Ned, once more, then climbs to his feet, the refs carefully holding him. His eyes meet Brad’s.
Bobby nods, just once.
Brad wraps his arms around his chest.
“Wow,” Mackie says, sitting next to him. “He loves you,” he observes.
Brad shoves him over without looking.
The game ends, Brad vibrating on the bench. Then Bobby is there, leaving the ice, the cats hitting him on the back. Brad shoves forward, eager.
“We’re going, we’re going,” Ekky mutters, stepping aside so Brad can pass him.
He nods absentmindedly at the trainers, and the staff, aware they lost but something strumming in the room, an energy Bobby brought for them. Fought for them. The team is whooping, clapping, cheering, when he ducks into the room. Bobby has his helmet in his hands, grinning. Brad beelines directly to him and glomps him in a hug.
Wolf whistles go up around the room.
Bobby cups his head with his blocker. “Hello, Brad,” he says warmly, tilting his head to rest against Brad’s forehead
“Hi,” Brad mutters into his chest protector, squeezing.
Bobby rubs his back with his huge gloves. “You want to get undressed, dear one?”
“In a minute,” Brad says absentmindedly. He rubs his cheek on Bobby’s chest, trying to think of the words.
“Thank you,” he realizes.
Bobby's hand pauses on his back. “It was my honor,” his dom says simply.
“You never fight,” Brad continues, accusatory.
Bobby hums, holding him. “Some things worth fighting for.”
Oh. “I might be spacing,” Brad admits to him.
“I see that,” Bobby says, amused. “I can help you, dear one.”
That was good. “Thanks,” Brad mutters, slurring.
Bobby’s strong hands, the hands that fought on his behalf, pick him up under the arms and carry him away.