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Keeping The Peace	By : Lazvernius Category: Individual Celebrities > Cricket Views: 1321 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the people I am writing about in this fanfiction. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Yeah, its been a while. I may never finish this story, Brendon has changed too much. But Ill put up what I have written.
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Chapter IV

We won, of course. Lou and I held our ground and by the time we got out all the tail-enders had to do was stand there. Now that would have hacked the Aussies off.
Shane and I sat in our room. Well, sat occasionally. Most of the time we were lying on our beds. I felt like a wrung out dishcloth. All this tension and fear and nervousness was suddenly gone and no other feeling had come to replace it. I had become comfortably numb.
Shane was quiet, and I knew he was hurting. Bowling like that would make any back hurt, so he lay flat on his front, just relaxing, and waiting for the pain to subside.
Not that I wasn’t in pain too. My shoulders hurt from keeping and everyone had already marveled at the perfectly round, almost black bruise three centimeters above my navel.
The team was going out tonight. To drink a bit of piss and generally relax. Not that Shane or I could get any more relaxed. I rolled off my bed with a grunt and walked over to Shane.
“Where’s it hurt Bondy?”
“Mrf fack” Shane refused to remove his head from the pillow.
“I know your back hurts, but where?”
“Mur fowfwar fack.”
“Right, your lower back hurts. You want me to rub it?” I had no idea what made me say that. I had never offered before hand didn’t know how Shane would take it. He finally extracted his head from the pillow.
“That would be nice. Just don’t walk on it. Scottie hurt me like hell the time he did that. And what do I have to do for you?” head back in pillow. I thought quickly.
“You can rub my shoulders. And no wonder Scottie hurt you, he’s fat.”
Shane chuckled. At that time I was not too happy with Scott, although that was entirely not his fault. Scott Styris was an unfortunate; chubby, pasty and utterly allergic. Pollen, grass seeds, dustmites, fur, you name it, Scott was allergic to it. Of course spending much of his time outdoors did not help much, and after every game he would come into the dressing room with blood red eyes and weeping eczema. His one relief was his eyedrops. The smell of iodine that those drops exuded testified as to how bad they must hurt. Scott said he lacked the masochistic instinct to do it himself, so one of the other guys always put them in for him. This time he asked Shane to do it. Now, I shouldn’t really have had a problem with this. Scottie needed those drops. But Shane didn’t have to put Scots’ head on his lap to administer them, didn’t have to stroke his hair back when he let out the half howl half swearword. A stab of pure jealousy had shot through me. I couldn’t believe it. But jealous I was, of Scott, because Shane was looking after him. Although the feeling had been pushed away then by the team's joy of winning, it reared its ugly head again now that I was alone with Shane.
I rubbed my hands together and clapped, Mister Miyagi style, before laying them gently on Shane’s back. I didn’t press hard, didn’t intentionally crack any vertebrae, I simply rubbed circles on his lower back.
Shane sighed placidly and I knew I was doing something right.
“Yoo haa ca coo”
“They are not!” Shane had been complaining about the temperature of my hands.
I relaxed into the job. Shane’s skin was wonderfully smooth, a pleasure to touch. The feeling was natural and claming. I was certainly enjoying being alive at the moment.
As I smoothed both hands down his spine, his back went ‘crick crick crick crack’. Shane let out a long breath and lifted his head from the pillow.
“That’s the one, Brendon. You’re pretty good at this.” Shane sat up. “Now what’s this about your shoulders?”
I sat on the end of the bed and Shane placed his hands on my shoulders. No complaints about the temperature.
“Tops or blades?” he asked.
“Both”
Shane pressed harder than I had done, or maybe it was just because his hands were bigger. I hurt a bit, but complaining words were far, far from my mouth. His touch was electric, and I forced myself to steady my breathing.
“They're gonna make you do that speech tonight” Shane’s tone was light and humourous.
“Wha-OW!” He had found a real sore spot.
“You know, the two minute speech you have to make after your first game. On a topic not yet known by anyone except Stephen.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I’m hoping the topic gives me some room.”
“It’ll be weird”
“Yea-OW!” Shane hit that sore spot again. “What was yours?”
“That there is no spoon. How’s thisl?”
I snorted. “Good, feels good” it felt utterly fantastic. “What’s the best speech you’ve heard?”
“Well, I wasn’t there, but Cairnsy says Sinclair’s was really good.”
“Sinclair’s? Well maybe he was funny back then. What was his topic?”
“Discuss the social, political and economic ramifications of a Black Cap living in a state house in Upper Hut.”
I cracked up, at least until Shane hit that spot again. “OW! You’re doing that on purpose!” I twisted round to see his grin change from mischievous to feigned innocence.
“Keep your panties on, McCullum, Ill be gentle.”
I turned back around, and Shane began massaging my shoulder blades with his thumbs, his fingers wrapped around my ribcage, in a way far more gentle than before.
Then Stephen walked in.
I jumped, but Shane didn’t. He had nothing to feel guilty about, I suppose. Stephen was joined by Louey, who practically ran into the back of him.
“Hey!” Shane said brightly. “Massage circle, only not enough people. You wanna join in?”
Lou fixed Shane a s a stare that looked like he thought we were both crazy. “That’s what we’ve got a physio for, guys. Were here to tell you that the vans for the - where the hell are we going? Never mind, in half an hour. Unless you feel like shelling out for a taxi, which I know you don’t, I suggest you get a move on.”
Stephen didn’t say anything; he just looked at me in a way that made me squirm. Shane still had his hands on my back, and I felt intensely uncomfortable. Lou scampered out, and Stephen followed, the look on his face that of a man working out a difficult puzzle.
Shane and I sat still for a moment.
“Your shoulders feel better? He said. I nodded. “Good… I bags first shower!”
In a flash Shane was up and bouncing toward the bathroom.

Although Lou didn’t actually know where we were going, when we got there we all reckoned he’d made a good choice about it. All right food, bar, good music, and best of all, a hen party in progress. (Lou, of course, didn’t plan on that one, but he was perfectly willing to take the credit.) Although some of the girls were less than happy that we had just beaten their team, most didn’t care and all seemed pretty happy that a group of fairly good looking guys had shown up. There were even a few clearly spoiling for a one-night stand.
After making a bit of fun of each other’s accents most of my teammates were being traded among the women, who were growing increasingly drunk. Strangely enough, it was Stephen who was in most demand, and it was funny to watch him wrestle with his conscience over whether to have fun with these ladies or stay completely true to his partner. In the end he gave up and had some fun (“about time” reckoned Chris Cairns.)
I didn’t dance. I cant. When I do, I look like a steadily flailing midget. Shane came and sat at the bar next to me.
“Lou's pub singsing skills are pretty good huh?” Shane said. As it was a Wednesday night, we were practically the only customers.
“Pretty good for opening the restaurant guide at a random page and picking the cheapest.” I said. Shane snorted, and asked the bartender for a coke.
“Look at Jake” Shahookhook his head. “He’s a beast isn’t he?”
Jacob Oram certainly looked threatening. Six foot six and solid; moving with slow footsteps and a dopey g Wha What was funnier was the girl he was dancing with would not have been five feet tall. It was a classic picture.
“You gonna dance? Some of those girls been asking about you.” Shane gestured to a pretty brunette.
“Nah. Cant. Look like a dick.”
Shane accepted this, and we both sat, drinking fizzy drinks, watching our teammates look stupid. We were quite content, until Louey sauntered over and asked why were being so anti-social. “No one want to dance with you, eh Shane?”
“Hey” I said, “at least his mum says he’s beautiful!” Lou rolled his eyes and Shane go.
“And Brendon's gonna dance with me! Aincha MiniMac?” I understood he was taking a poke at Lou, so I took his extended hand and we marched toward the dance floor. Upon reaching it, Shane wrapped his hand around my waist and we began to waltz, laughing the whole time.
Shane was a very good dancer. I was a very poor dancer, meaning that I stood on his feet and stumbled half the time. By then, the entire team was laughing, and Lou was shaking his head. The seventh time I tripped Shane picked me up and stood me on his feet, meaning I had to cling to him to keep my balance. I suddenly became aware of how close he was to me. His larger frame dwarfed my own and even while benign, his torso and arms showed strength and power I could only dream of.
‘Kiss him’ the thought filled my head, and I hoped I had not said it aloud. As it popped into my head, unbidden, I found myself looking at his lips, currently stretched in that charming smile, and I wanted to lean up, and touch his mouth and…
I pulled away from him suddenly, in an attempt to control my rollercoastering thoughts. Of course, as I was still standing on his feet, pulling away meant I fell smack-bang on my arse. Shane looked confused, the entire team and most of the hen party were pissing themselves, but the look on Stephen’s face told me the pieces of the puzzle, whatever it was, were falling into place. I got to my feet as gracefully as I could, and ran for the safety of the bar.

“Traditionally a new Black Cap has to make a speech on a topic chosen by his captain after his first game. He has a minute to prepare, and must speak for two minutes. If more than half the audience don’t think the speech is gonougnough he must do it again.” Chris Cairns looked around and fixed his eyes on me “Brendon McCullum played his first game today, and did pretty damn well. However he still has to make a speech, on the subject of…” Chris bent down and Stephen murmured to him; “’Forming relationships when you spend eight months of the year sharing a room with another man’ You got one minute, MiniMac.” Everybody laughed, but it washed numbly over me. He knew. Stephen knew how I felt about Shane.
“Just make it funny,” said big Jake Oram. I realized I had time to worry about making sure Stephen kept his mouth shut after I had faced this speech.
“That’s one minute!”
I stood up slowly, then Jake picked me up and stood me on the table. Oh shit. I cleared my throat.
“Hello, er, everyone. To the ladies who don’t know me I’m, er, Brendon. Before I really get into this, I'd like to point out that I’m twenty years old. I've never actually had a ‘relationship’. Sure, I've had girlfriends, I've had sex, but I haven’t had a ‘relationship’. Therefore, I really don’t know what I’m talking about here. I'll just bullshit.
“When you spend such a e ame amount of time in the company of other guys I would say the most important relationship you form is with your own right hand.” Everybody cracked up, and the show-off in me was coming to the fore. “Then you end up spending time, depressingly sober, in bars for the merest hint of the company of the fairer sex-“
“And very fair this lot are too!”
“-Thank you Andre. Does that count toward my time? Anyway, trying to find that ‘special someone’ gets pretty hard when you spend three days somewhere and most of that time is spent in the company of sweaty blokes. Now there are few other sweaty blokes I would rather spend time with, personality wise, but they are rather lacking in the looks department-.”
“Hey, my mum says I’m beautiful!”
“- I’m sure she does Shane. A miraculous thing, formally known as the one night stand, is probably the relationship most often incorporated into the lives of cricketers, even while they have another ‘relationship’ on the back burner at home. Not that I’m trying to ruin the chances of any of my teammates getting some tonight. Don’t worry ladies, they’re all perfectly harmless.
“Of course, there are members of this team who are married, or have long term girlfriends. Kudos to them. That’s probably what I’ll want when I’m old too.” Stephen gave me the evils, but I reckoned that jibe wasn’t even part payment for this topic. “Anyway, the longer I stay up here, the shorter my life span is looking like being, so ill sign off. It should be long enough by now. Any point I was trying to make is lost, okay stopping…now!”
There was a goodly amount of applause, and some people, Kyle Mills and Daniel Vettori in particular, seemed to think I was actually very funny. Cairnsy stood up again.
“Yes, the interjections form Messrs Bond and Adams do count toward the total time of
two minutes oh two. Alright people, pronounce judgement.”
It was a fairly mixed spread. Nathan Astle, Chris Cairns, Chris Harris, BigMac, Andre Adams and Scott Styris all gave thumbs down. In fact, I thought Andre was giving me two thumbs down, before I realised he was holding up one for the girl wrapped around his wa For Fortunately, the majority of the team, and the ladies all said I was successful.
“Thank you, thank you.” I gave a short bow and motioned for Jake to get me off the table.

The rest of the evening was far calmer, spent sitting around watching super 12 replays and talking with a very lovely girl named Kylie.
She was nice, this girl, but nothing special. I think I upset her by not being interested though. I just couldn’t bring myself to lie about my feelings like that. I might have convinced her, but never me. Yourself is the hardest person to lie to, because no matter what you pretend, you always know the truth.
All in all, I was glad when the vans left, taking the majority of the team with them.
“Hey, MiniMac?” that was Lou, I could tell without turning around.
“Yeah?”
“Can I bunk with you and Shane tonight? I’m rooming with dirty old man A, an, and I don’t think he wants me around tonight.”
Andre had spent the latter part of the evening hooking into his girl, and I could understand Louey not wanting to be around when the heat really went up.
“What does Shane say?” I asked
“To ask you, and that I’m sleeping on the floor.”
“I guess its good with me. You’re sleeping on the floor.”
I had wanted to be alone with Shane that night, as we hadn’t spoken since our ‘dance’, but Louey took away any awkwardness, rabbitting on about the games, and how we were doing to win the series for once, and what we would do to Brett Lee if we caught him in a dark alley. Shane and I couldn’t get a word in edgeways until, after half an hour, we told him, quite forcefulto Sto SHUT UP!

Lying in the darkness, listening to two sets of breathing, that same comfortable numbness settled over me. Today had been good. I had played my first international. We had won. I had made people laugh, talked to a nice girl, touched Shane and had him touch me. None of the memories were exciting, dangerous, discotingting or erotic. They were all very comfortable.
Slowly this numbness deepened, and I fell asleep.x
- 3
- 4
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Keeping The Peace