Chapter Text
When Brad Marchand scored the empty-net goal that solidified their win against the Vancouver Canucks, and locked in the Stanley Cup for the Boston Bruins, everyone was ecstatic, Brad especially. The boys on the ice skated towards him, screaming and cheering. Marchy was jumping up and down, Bergy could barely hold on to him, nevermind hug him. They were celebrating in front of a bunch of Canucks fans and they did not seem very happy that Marchy was banging on the glass, seemingly unaware of how fucked up it is to laugh and taunt the other fans. Mark Recchi and Johnny Boychuk ended up dragging him away, thankfully, even though he was still waving in that direction. When they got back to the bench, Marchy got a lot of slaps on the back, high-fives, praises and chirps from the rest of the team. When they settled down, Rex gave him a stare and tilted his head in Brad's direction, as if to tell him to tell Brad to not go too far with taunting the fans.
So he elbowed Brad. Brad only turned around with a wide grin on his face. "'Sup Bergy?" And he told him. He told Brad to not fuck with the fans in such a volatile environment where there are cameras everywhere and being in enemy turf. He told Brad to not bang on the glass in front of the other team's fans, nor laugh at them. All the while Brad's excited grin morphed into confusion, then slight guilt. He saw Brad open his mouth, and expected an apology. He was right, but he didn't expect the rest of the sentence.
"Sorry Bergy. I'm not gonna lie, I didn't even notice those fans in front of me...I got carried away celebrating the empty-net goal and saw my parents and my brother and sisters up there. They were standing up and cheering and I wanted to celebrate with them too. Jeff was waving his cap and Mels and Rebecca were screaming and I got really hyped up. They saw me and I wanted to tell them I did it! I'll be a bit more careful though, sorry." Brad's grin turned sheepish and he started rubbing the back of his neck, looking away.
Oh. Now he's feeling bad. He knew this was Marchy's first full season and playoff. He remembers the ambitious barely-adult Marchy in development camp, and how hard-working he was, desperate to be noticed, to prove he was ready to be part of the main lineup. Now knowing that his family was there to watch him from the stands, cheering him on, and Marchy was not, in fact, fucking with the Canucks fans, puts a new perspective on him for Patrice. "Hey it's alright. Just don't get carried away too much." The grin returns, "Can't guarantee it, you know me."
Little shit. Gotta keep an eye on the jumpy, chaotic, antagonistic, and apparently family-oriented squirrel.