Chapter Text
April 10th 2025 10am
“Sir I don’t care how much money you have. I don’t care what your status is. We are full and you can sign in and wait for as long as it takes to get in or you can return tomorrow for the appointment.”
The woman stood tall, eyes matching his own intensity.
Nicke slumped in defeat. She was just doing her job after all.
Turning back to Alex who had been sitting slouched over in the Emergency Room’s chair surrounded by an array of patients, all needing care as well, Nicke approached the larger man.
When Alex felt his presence he stooped forward further, nudging his head into the soft of his husband’s stomach. A small whine brought Nicke’s lithe hands into his pepper gray hair.
“We have to come back tomorrow,” Nicke softly informed him. “It’s too busy.”
Alex didn’t question him, but he made no effort to move until Nicke stepped back and reached out for his partner’s hands. “C’mon.”
March 30th 2025 3pm
Nicke heard the front door open and close from where he’d been rinsing vegetables in the kitchen. Wandering into the living room he watched as Alex flopped onto the sofa and curled in on himself, eyes falling shut.
It had been weeks of this. Headaches and vomiting and no motivation.
“What did the trainers say?” Nicke inquired gently as he perched on the small span of couch left over.
For a moment Alex just breathed deeply, but eventually he opened one eye to squint up at the Swede.
“Say maybe it’s not flu after all. Maybe it’s migraine’s.”
The blonde bit his lip as irritation swept through him. Just because they were veterans now, just a few months from retirement, didn’t give the training staff any right to not give the same care they had given in their prime. Yet here they sat, three weeks into this – whatever this is. First it had been casually diagnosed as a flu and then, after symptoms persisted, a new diagnosis seemed to have been tossed out as an answer.
“Are they- what’s their plan? Are you meeting with a specialist?”
Alex groaned and turned so his face smooshed into the soft fabric of the couch.
“I’m bring you with me next time.”
Nicke rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help a grin when Alex’s massive hand pawed at his thigh playfully despite not looking up from the couch.
“MRI scheduled for April 11th.”
Bristling all over again, Nicke scowled darkly. “What the fuck? Why so far out?”
“I don’t know Solnyshko,” Alex replied tiredly.
For a moment Nicke just sat and watched his love. It had been like this for weeks now. Alex facing perpetual exhaustion and often pain. He wanted answers.
August 14th 2025 5pm
“What are you writing,” Alex asked brightly as he peered over Nicke’s shoulder.
Nicke sat with an index card and a sharpie, tongue out as he concentrated on writing legibly.
On the bright little card read the words, “My name is Alex Ovechkin. If found, call Nicklas Backstrom at 202-492-8748.”
Capping the pen, Nicklas glanced up at his husband. “Just want to make sure that if I lose you I can find you again.”
His tone jumped teasingly, but his heart clinched tight.
“Put it in your wallet.”
April 10th 2025 10:23AM
Tires spun as Nicke whipped into the ER’s front entrance. To his left Alex sat hunched inward and whimpering, fingers digging into his head with one hand as the other white-knuckled a plastic bag they’d found in the backseat.
“Wait here,” Nicke murmured as he swung open the car door and raced back into the ER. They’d been gone less than twenty minutes.
“I need a wheelchair please!” he called out. Quickly a nursemaid, thankfully a large muscular man, responded.
“What happened?” he asked as he pushed the chair towards the exit just behind a rushing Nicke.
“My husband, he has an MRI tomorrow for a head issue, but it just got worse. They tried to send us home earlier, but he was vomiting on the side of the road before we could get three blocks. He just, we’ll wait, but he needs something for the pain at least. I can’t sit at home and watch him suffer like this,” rambled Nicke.
As he’d been sharing his side of things, the man had skillfully maneuvered all 6’3 and 235 pounds of Alexander Ovechkin into the wheel chair.
The man turned to put an assuring hand on Nicke’s shoulder. “He’ll be cared for. It might be in the hallway, but he’ll be cared for.”
December 25th 2025 9am
Nicke sat on the couch, back nuzzled against Ovi’s expanse of chest. It felt warm. It felt safe. He could feel Ovi dig his chin in as he peered over Nicke’s shoulder to watch.
In his lap sat a tiny box wrapped in red paper. He slowly peeled back the wrapping paper to find a jewelry box. Holding the soft velvet box in his palm, Nicke pulled it open.
Inside lay a delicate silver necklace, it twisted into an 8 and a red gem rested inside the bottom loop. It was simple, but he felt his breath catch nonetheless.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Alex nuzzled his ear in response.
“That’s um, that’s not all,” interjected Andre from his spot on the floor beside a tall and brightly lit tree. “We um. We helped him record a message. It’s called Beam Your Love and um.”
Tom jumped in as Andre paused in his search for the right words to explain it. “This radio company in California sends audio messages out of a satellite in space and sound just, keeps traveling out there so like the message lasts forever. And there’s this website where you can enter the code, yours is NA0819 and if you type it in then you can listen to it at any time.”
Nicke felt tears burning at his eyes and he hadn’t even heard the message yet. But the thought, the sentiment, it was so much.
“You guys, this is,” he hesitated to look down and bite at his lip. “This is the best gift I could have asked for.”
Soon Tom was fiddling with Nicke’s phone, saving the page to his home screen and showing him how to type in the code as soft music played from the page.
In a moment Alex’s voice played out into the room.
“Solnyshko. Oh Nicke. I love you. I love you day I called your name to draft. I love you day I give you cup. I love you day I give you ring. I love you day I give you vows. I love you today. I love you always.”
Too soon the message ended, but Nicke sat curled in towards Alex, shaking as tears ran down his cheeks.
Alex held him tightly, petting at his curls as he wept.
“Bad message make you cry?” he joked.
Nicklas shook his head sharply.
“No, it’s perfect.”