Chapter Text
Two minutes are left on the buzzer and the Eden Hall Mighty Ducks are tied against the formidable Michigan. It’s a final showdown to determine the winner of Nationals and who will be defending Team America’s title at the Junior Goodwill Games.
Julie Gaffney, the star goalie, eyes down the rink, eagerly watching her teammates and her opponents for the next move, the next action that she would need to counter. She had already let a goal in; she was not eager to let another one pass by her. The game was heating up as the two captains of the opposing teams battled for control of the puck. Adam Banks, precise and driven, ices the puck to the other side of the rink and a scramble for the puck begins. Whilst the rest of the ducks followed the puck, Adam slowed down, skating to Julie whilst signalling for a timeout to the referee. A break to breathe and to strategise how to defeat the tie they were in.
The ducks on the ice found their way to the goalpost, with Julie and Adam huddling together to discuss their next course of action.
“They’re playing dirty, we’re never going to win this way,” Fulton pointed out, staring down the Michigan players.
“If they play dirty, then we play fucking filthy,” Charlie shared proudly, shrugging his shoulders, “They’ve got the aggression but we’ve got the skill, are we ducks or what?
“You never cease to surprise me, Charlie but if we’re gonna win this, I wanna win fair,” Adam said, smiling softly, “We don’t need to cheat to win.”
“Besides, we have Julie in net, she’ll clean up the trash,” Jesse backed Adam, his co-captain, in his stance, sharing a nod and patting his shoulder.
“Yeah, but we also have Goldberg,” Fulton spat out, saying what everyone was thinking.
“I am standing right here,” Goldberg said, annoyed, cursing under his breath.
“I know, pull your shit together,” Fulton said blankly, “This is nationals, not peewee hockey.”
The referee blows his whistle, a final call, the last minute to play. The rest of the ducks began swiftly skating back into formation. Jesse tugged on Fulton’s arm, stopping him from leaving.
“Quit digging into him, Fulton,” Jesse warned him, “I mean it.”
Fulton ignored this, muttering, “Whatever.”
Jesse sighed, skating back to his position on the right of Adam.
“What was that about?” Adam whispered, turning to look at Jesse.
“I’ll tell you later, I promise, focus on the game,” Jesse replied, hoping Adam could forget what he saw.
The referee slid between the two rows of players and hesitated in the moment, watching the bloodthirsty eyes of the players in front of them. The puck, their prey, unleashed hunters as he dropped the black disc between them, and the clashing of sticks jammed in the middle fought for possession. The puck slipped out from the gaggle of players, with Charlie leading to the boards and gaining the puck. Cornered in a panic, he shoots the puck for Fulton to receive, but Goldberg accidentally intercepts.
“Shit,” Conway muttered, racing to Goldberg to try and fix his mistake.
Goldberg fumbles with the puck, losing possession and falling over his stick. Fulton angrily gains the puck, charging through the Michigan players and pausing to wind up. His signature slapshot, deadly and unpredictable, leads to all the players skidding to a spot waiting for his play. Fulton lifts his stick and winks at Adam. The slapshot is a fakeout and a precise pass to Adam, who snipes it right past the goalie, the buzzer goes off and the time runs out.
Adam gasps and lets out a laugh of shock. They’ve won. The Mighty Ducks have won. All the ducks on the bench pour onto the rink, screaming with joy, tossing all their helmets and gloves. As Adam turns around, trying to find the one person he wants to celebrate with, Charlie pounces on him and seizes him in a tight bear hug.
“You did it!” Charlie cried out, ecstatic with energy; his excitement was contagious and it infected Adam, who couldn’t help but hold on to him, jumping together and yelling about their win.
Their ducks all joined together in one big gaggle, shouting their infamous “quack, quack, quack” chant.
The Eden Hall Gazette’s very own sports journalist duo, Linda Chavez and her best friend Terry Hall, the best photographer the Gazette could ask for, were waiting up on the ducks to file out. Terry snapped some photos of the celebration between them.
“They sure know how to quack,” Terry said, wincing as he took another photo.
“Oh, shush, you used to be part of that flock,” Linda laughed, “Quack, quack, quack, Terry.”
Jesse broke away from the rest of the ducks celebrating and skated over to his brother and Linda, barely able to crack a smile, “Sup, Linda. Yo, Terry, can we go home?”
“What? You’re not staying to celebrate?” Terry questioned his twin.
“Nah, fuck that, I’ll just go to Linda’s party - that is if you are still hosting?”
“Oh Jesse, you took the words right out of my mouth,” Linda said, smiling sweetly, “You better come, the ducks all miss you. Especially Adam, won’t shut up about you.”
Jesse blushed, bowing his head down, “I’ll be there, I promise, Terry’ll drag me, alright? Come on, let’s get outta here.”
The Hall twins left in silence, dragging their feet out of the stadium. Linda turned her attention to the rest of the ducks, waiting for her boyfriend to emerge.
“Adam!” Linda squealed, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, “I’m so proud of you, Mr MVP, or should I say Mr Nationals?”
“Do you flip a coin to decide who becomes MVP between me and Julie?” Adam said sarcastically before whispering, “You might want to change it before people catch on, eh?”
“Some boyfriend you are, can’t even spoil you,” Linda sighed, rolling her eyes before screaming at the sight of her two best friends, “Julie! Connie!”
Charlie sent her a scathing look before muttering to Adam, “Girls will be girls.”
“Play nice, Charlie,” Adam warned, before lightening up, “Come on, let me treat you out for dinner. We’re going to the motherfucking Goodwill Games!”
The Day After
The morning breaks into Adam’s room, slowly stirring him awake. Adam stretched in his bed, burrowing himself into his sheets, hoping to escape the morning light and the day ahead. Having partied and drank with Charlie, post-game, he wasn’t too excited to get out of bed to go to school. Three light knocks on his door, along with his mother’s light voice cooing through the door.
“Adam, dear,” Mrs. Banks said, creaking open the door slowly, “You awake yet, pumpkin?”
“No?” Adam grumbled into his pillow, “Give me ten minutes, Mom.”
Mrs Bank knelt next to her son, stroking his hair, “Well, Mr Nationals, you better wake up soon - Charlie left a voicemail for you.”
Adam’s eyes widened, propping himself on his elbow to look at his mother, “Charlie? What did he say?”
Mrs. Bank sighed, ruffling his hair, before she sternly said, “You, my son, are very predictable. Now wake up and get ready, you know Charlie’s picking you up - God, it smells like morning in here.”
Adam dramatically throws himself back onto his pillows, murmuring, “You have to stop saying that, Mom, ‘Charlie left you a voicemail’, ‘Charlie left his hoodie here’, etcetera and etcetera.”
“I’ll stop saying it when you stop believing it, now get up, Adam - UP!” Mrs Bank said, flinging the curtains open, looking out onto the street, “Huh, Charlie’s already there.”
“Mom, stop it! I’m getting up,” Adam rolled out of bed, landing with a slight thud, groaning. He walks over to his mother, scratching his hair, which was sticking out in all sorts of different directions.
“No, he really is outside,” Mrs Banks points out, pulling her son to see Charlie waiting in his worn-down Nissan.
“Oh shoot!” Adam yelled, rushing out of his room to the bathroom, scrambling to get ready and not keep his best friend waiting, “I forgot I told him to pick me up early.”
Charlie waited outside Adam’s house to pick him up for school. He was scribbling away in his journal, trying to get some quiet writing time away from his mother and her new boyfriend. Glancing at his watch, he nervously chewed the end of his pen, eagerly waiting for Adam to come out of his house. It’s not like Adam to be late - the perfect captain of the Ducks, so prim and proper, he easily fit into the preppy aesthetic of Eden Hall. Charlie, on the other hand, couldn’t stick out more with his second-hand clothes and his slack manner in everything he does. He would never fit into a school like that and he didn’t want to.
Adam opens the door to his house to leave, but not without his mother's departing kiss on both cheeks. Just like routine, Charlie notes, Adam squirms out as if disgusted, before turning his back and smiling like a five-year-old enamoured by the only woman that’s important to him. Charlie wondered how it would feel to be completely doted on, the way Mrs. Banks does to her only child, how she sincerely saw Adam as everything in her world. Adam strolls to the car, leaning forward on the Nissan, gently knocking for Charlie to unlock.
Charlie winds down the window of the passenger seat and throws his keys to Adam, “What time did you wake up, Cake Eater?”
Adam forcefully opens the trunk of the car, grunting out, “Fifteen minutes ago.”
Charlie laughed, hitting the headrest, “That explains the hair, then.”
Adam’s usual soft, bouncy locks were a wet, tangled mess, dripping onto his clothes. He’s traded his standard polo for a washed-out, baggy T-shirt and scuffed-up jeans.
“I’ll fix it when I’m at school,” Adam groaned, “I look like a mess.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, I doubt anyone will notice...or the eyebags, did Linda keep you up all night?” Charlie said stiffly, looking into the rearview mirror as he pretended to be unbothered, backing up out of Adam’s driveway and heading onto the main road.
Adam scrunches his face in annoyance, “Bleh, you’re disgusting! You know she’s staying with Julie for the night."
Charlie’s attitude lightened at this, “So I’m not picking her up?”
“Can you at least pretend to like her?” Adam rolled his eyes, “She’s still my girlfriend and she’s best friends with Julie.”
“Stop making assumptions, Cake Eater,” Charlie pouts, shrugging, “I didn’t say that.”
“Well, your face did,” Adam said, pushing Charlie’s face away, gently drifting his fingers across his cheek, “You can’t hide any secrets from me, Spazway.”
“I don’t know Banksy, I’m a very complex person,” Charlie batted his eyelids, “The secrets I have would send you to your grave.”
“Nah, I could live with whatever you’ve done,” Adam softly said, truthfully, “Not like murders on the list, right?”
Charlie took a hard swerve into the next street, muttering, “Obviously not.”
“Yeah, well, keep driving like this and you might kill us both,” Adam said snarkily, buckling his seatbelt, waiting for Charlie’s reaction, eyeing him and drinking up his looks and always admiring from the passenger seat.
Charlie softly strikes him in the chest, “You like my driving, Banksy, don’t lie. You’re always smiling in my car.”
“You can’t read minds, Spazway - maybe my smiling is gas, don’t give yourself such a big ego,” Adam quickly remarked, looking off outside.
“You’re so childish,” Charlie said, looking straight ahead.
“Well, I never want to grow up, I’ll stay seventeen,” Adam stated back, rolling down the windows of the car before bellowing out to the streets, “Forever and ever!
“Sit down, Banksy!” Charlie laughed out, one hand on the wheel of the car, the other tugging on him to get to sit down, “You’re being crazy.”
“Better crazy than boring,” Adam said, relaxing back into his seat, “I never want to be boring.”
Adam got quiet, his smile simmering to an almost-frown, looking out the window. The wind blew into his face, his bangs lightly lifting away from his forehead. Charlie noticed his demeanour; he’d been like this for weeks and he didn’t know how to solve it. One moment he’d be bright as the sun, beaming joy and then the next a dull cloud and quiet, as if someone had dimmed all the light in him. Charlie left him alone, driving in silence before parking at school.
“Adam, you good?” Charlie finally said, anxious about what his answer would be.
The smile shot right back up, “I’m great, come on, I want to find Jesse before homeroom.”
Adam got out of the car, swinging his rucksack onto his back, patiently waiting at the trunk for Charlie to open.
Charlie lifts the trunk with more ease than Adam, “What’d you need Jesse for?”
“He let me borrow his notes for Math,” Adam explained, “I feel bad, but he insisted on it. Plus, he’s holding out on me.”
In the distance, the Hall twins were at the borders of the school grounds. Jesse was smoking, taking long drags with his cigarettes, whilst Terry watched disgusted, wrinkling his nose,
“It’s eight in the morning, you think, smoking your lungs away is going to help you?” Terry questioned, wafting the smoke away.
“Nope and I don’t care, Terry,” Jesse shot back at his younger sibling, “I don’t wanna be here, I don’t want to play hockey right now and I especially don’t want to go to this fucking pep rally.”
“They’re celebrating you, the least you could do is show up,” Terry reasoned, his efforts to cheer up his older brother over the past couple of weeks had been futile.
“Jesus, there’s nothing to celebrate about,” Jesse snapped, “Dad’s dead and I have to look after both of us, or did you just happen to forget?”
Terry tutted, “No, I haven’t! Quit trying to make me feel guilty, he was my Dad too, I’m just tryna help - see you at the pep rally.”
Terry strutted off but not before bumping into Charlie and Adam, “He’s in a foul mood, don’t even try talking to him.”
“I’m not scared of him,” Adam said, giving him a reassuring smile.
“Did Linda come to school with you?” Terry asked, quickly.
“No, she’s with Julie,” Adam told him, “They’re probably-”
“Of course she is,” Terry scoffed, throwing his hands in the air, “I’ll see y’all later, alright. And Charlie, make sure Adam fixes his hair; we’re taking final photos for the yearbook.”
“I’m working on it!” Adam grunted, patting his hair down desperately.
Charlie snickers before Adam lands a jab to his gut that halts the laughter. Charlie and Adam approach Jesse, who immediately begins to put out his cigarette against the brick wall.
“What’s up, Banks? Spazway?” Jesse heaved out, wafting the smoke out of their faces.
“You didn’t need to put that out, you know,” Adam said kindly.
“I respect you too much not to,” Jesse replied sincerely.
“You always smoke in front of me,” Charlie spluttered out, slightly annoyed.
Jesse sent him a deadpan stare.
Point taken.
“Anyways, Jesse, thanks for letting me use your homework,” Adam said, pulling a plastic sleeve out and handing it to im.
“Anytime, Banksy,” Jesse said, “Can’t have you failing Math, Orion would kill you, then me and quite frankly I like breathing.”
“Touche, Jesse,” Adam replied, his face darkened, “So, what happened between you and Fulton yesterday?”
Jesse let out a dry laugh, “Just drop it, Adam, we’ve won, it doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t deny Adam this, I’ll have to hear about it for the next week,” Charlie butted in, “Go on, spit it out.”
“It’s typical Fulton, he’s gotten too into winning, that’s all,” Jesse said truthfully, “I mean, you saw the way he kept digging into Goldberg - it’s Goldberg, for crying out loud, what do you expect?”
“I’ll talk to him, clear things up,” Adam offered.
“Don’t. Just drop it, Adam, please,” Jesse pleaded, clenching his fists, “I shouldn’t have even told you, man.”
Jesse stared at Banks, lingering on his face, “What time did you wake up, Adam? Your hair looks…flat.”
Adam growled, turning on his heels to the nearest bathroom, “You said no one would notice, Charlie!”
“I didn’t say that!” Charlie howled, holding his belly, following after his friend.
“Bye, Jesse!” Adam angrily shouted, not looking back and clutching onto his hair, evidently embarrassed.
“Bye, Adam,” A sullen Jesse murmured, resting his head against the wall, shutting his eyes, at least just for a while.