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Louis “Snowy” Snowden was the first one to hear that Alexei “Tater” Mashov made the Russian Olympic team, and vice versa when Snowy made the Canadian Olympic team. The two Providence players celebrated, along with Jack Zimmermann, who was surprised he made it. Tater shook his head, telling Jack “Of course you make it, good player Zimmboni!”
What the two of them hadn’t anticipated was the fact Alexei would have to go back to Russia 18 months before the official start of the Olympics. The two of them had about a month before the two of them would be apart.
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After three months of separation, and maybe four emails, Snowy thought he would go crazy missing his Russian bear. Even though Snowy had temporarily moved back to Vancouver for training camps, even on roadies he had Tater next to him at night. The king sized bed was too big, and too empty...too cold. Snowy found himself grabbing Tater’s sweater from the closet, putting it on. He couldn’t wear it too much, other wise it would start smelling like the goalie and not the Russian. Snowy climbed back into bed, curling into Tater’s empty side, and tried to imagine that the man he loved would be back soon.
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Snowy managed not to cry when he got an email from Tater, but it was a near thing. He knew his partner had to be careful, as Tater could be killed for being in a homosexual relationship. He cherished what he could get from Tater, the email easily 4 pages in length. It spoke of training camps, and cold, the cold of Russia Tater had missed. Snowy smiled, laughing at an attached video of Alexei skating, showing off his hockey skills, minus the few times he took a spill. His partner also talked about how he’d forgotten how cruel coaches could be. The ones in the States weren’t overly kind, it wasn’t in the nature of the beast, but Snowy couldn’t exactly say he didn’t flinch when he saw the bruises on Alexei’s skin. He knew the Russian got hurt sometimes, but he usually could apply Tiger Balm and care after the fact. This...This was too much.
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Six months had passed, and Jack had made Snowy take a break. The goalie had been going, going, going, trying to distract himself from the fact Tater was gone. Snowy looked at his teammate, and friend. “How did you do it? When you couldn’t see Bitty?” The other man paused.
“I called him every night, and we would text. But, we had that too. And we were only separated for a month at most. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Snowy nodded, skating to the locker rooms. He had spent probably an hour in the shower, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.
He went home for the week, hoping that his and Tater’s flat would help. It did, being surrounded by the house they owned, and everything that they had together. He slept better that night than he had in about five months.
One day, however, he sat in their walk in closet, clutching one of Tater’s t-shirts to his chest, crying. Later he would deny it, but in that moment, he let the pain of not being able to see his partner wash over it. He had barely heard from Alexei in the last few weeks, and it made it worse.
That same night, on an act of impulse, Snowy got up, wiping his face, grabbing one of his Falcs snapbacks, putting it and a light jacket on, heading to the rink. He went into the gift shoppe, picking up a Mashov jersey, made for a toddler. Then, he swung by the mall, going immediately to Build-A-Bear, and picking up a brown bear. He had a recording of Tater murmuring “I love you” in Russian on his phone, which he recorded so he could hear it from said bear. Then, after stuffing the bear, he put the jersey on it.
He slept better the nights following, curled around Tater Jr. He still missed his Russian dearly, but this helped.
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Somewhere along the line, it suddenly was 2018 and Snowy found himself on a plane, heading for South Korea. He slept through a good portion of the flight, rousing at one point to see Jack thumbing through photos of himself and Bitty, pausing the longest on one of Bitty sound asleep. “He’s like your morning sun,” Snowy whispered, Jack only smiling and nodding in reply.
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“113….115….117...Aha!” He slid his key card through the door, and stepped in, gasping when he saw Tater sitting on his bed. The door clicked closed, before the two of them moved, Snowy crashing into Tater, the two of them falling onto the bed. Snowy was kissing Alexei like his life depended on it, Tater murmuring “Loo-ee, Loo-ee” under his breath, his Russian accent so much thicker than it had been when he left. Snowy didn’t know when he started crying, only realized it when Tater kissed one away.
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“Vhy bear?” came the soft question later, Snowy’s head on Tater’s bare chest. The goalie paused for a moment, feeling Tater’s finger tips run up and down his spine.
“I didn’t have you...So I made the next best thing.”
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In the end, Canada got bronze and Russia got silver, but that didn’t matter, really.
Snowy was going home that night with Tater.
Back to Providence. Back to….them.