She’d been right - being in the majors, it changed you. Matthias felt like he’d been held down and held back, but - just as he’d seen her back in Edmonton, there was no contest. If he’d gone toe to toe with himself now, even at the peak of his career in the Js, he had no doubt in his mind that he would lose. He thought back on the night of her rookie award win, and smiles to himself. It had been a while, and since leaving the Scarecrows, he’d been seeing a lot more of her. Funny thing, that - he was so much stronger, but he was almost at the bottom of the totem pole again. 

He leans over to wipe down the equipment, and pauses, as he hears a door open - who was here so early?

“Good, you can spot,” an ever so familiar voice called to Matthias. Alexa had arrived here nearly as early as him, because of course she would. She nodded to him, starting to put weight on the bar of the benchpress, 40kg, 80kg, 120kg, finally stopping at a full 140kg. “Going to do ten reps at this weight. You ready or still finishing yours?”

His eyes widen a bit, not only at Alexa being here so early, but the weight she was repping. Not, though, in his usual way - he wasn’t so surprised to see her hauling such numbers, moreso that she was hauling his numbers. A spry smile bled through his face, and he tugged off his sweater.

“I was just finishing with the warm-up! And wouldn’t you rather try twelve?”

He looks over, and flexes his arms, before hanging up his team sweater and stepping up to the bar.

“C’mon, I’ll help you - new season, new PR, right? I’m sure you’ve been training like mad to get to this weight.”

“Ten is the standard. I'm pretty strong, Matthias, you'll see,” she said, laying down and settling in. She grabbed the bar, doing a press with perfect form, then another. Each came with a small grunt of exertion, but she didn't seem to be struggling with it, yet, at least. 

Though Matthias’ tone is teasing, he at least makes sure to be a good spotter, and his hands follow the bar up and down. Up, and down. No, don’t look at Alexa, focus on the ba- focus on the bar. Up, down. How many had she done? Shit, he couldn’t remember.

“Damn, and not a broken form yet - you mind spotting for me in between sets?”

He asks, trying his best not to look down at her - her hair was a sweaty mess, she must’ve run here this morning. It looked a lot like that time-

Nope. 

Up, down. Up, down.

“When I'm done,” Alexa grunted. Up, and down again. And then again. “Almost there. Let's… get this done,” she grunted again, another, and then she racked the weights again. “There we go. You doing presses too?”

He blinks once or twice, and grins.

“I normally do it after pec flies, but I don't mind dropping the superset to trade off and on with you, instead!”

He slips off a little of the weighs that Alexa had on - dropping the weight by about 5 kilos across the bar, before he considers the weight, and lowers a hand to help pull Alexa up from the bench.

“Teammates. Time to show her what I can do,” Matthias thought to himself.

For once, she let him help, sitting up as he pulled, clearing the bench. Before she’d let him start, though, she wiped it down, and the bar too. “Basic courtesy,” Alexa told Matthias, tossing the towel over her shoulder as she got in position. “You’re sure this won’t fuck up your exercises?”

“It might sound weird - but I find if I stick to my routine too well, I don’t get the kind of growth that I’m looking for -“

He laughs, and slips under the bar, tucking his shoulders back, and giving himself a bit of an arch, before his hands grasp around the bar, and he lifts - slowly, incredibly slowly, down to his sternum, and then up again. And again, and again - his form staying proper, his forehead beading with sweat, but his focus not slipping, as he lifts the bar 12 times in a practiced, definite pattern. There’s almost no noise as he re-racks the weight, though it’s plain to see his arms shaking.

“ - in a weird way, disruption is what gets me that kind of growth. So - no, I don’t think it will!”

He says with a wink!

“You're right. That sounds very weird,” Alexa shot back, keeping her hands ready to help if needed. As he finishes his set, she nods. “Not bad, but your arms are shaking. Give them a break before you try for more. You don't build endurance by destroying them entirely. Only mostly.”

“Only mostly -”

He repeats, swinging himself out from under the weights, and looking at her, stepping into position to spot for her second set.

“How do you do your sets, Alexa? Higher weight, lower reps on consecutive lifts? Or do you have your own way?”

He undoes the weight clips, and lifts a small weight - a pair totalling an additional 5 kilos, if they were to be added onto the bar.

“I’ve never trained so much and seen so many results - it really is just the caliber of the league, it - it feels like it brings out the best in us.”

“And certainly brings out the best in you,” he wanted to add, but didn’t - something… still held him back.

“Higher weights on lower reps is pretty accurate,” Alexa mused. “I don't need to keep my strength at full the whole game. I only need it in quick bursts, when I need to force someone out of my way, or stop them doing that to me. So, yeah, bursts of strength. “Going to do squats next. Spot again?”

“You’ve got it - I think I might actually be stronger than you at this!”

He grins wide, and sets up behind the bar - ready to help her if she needs it. He settles up, and watches in the mirror, his hands in position to catch the weight if something should go wrong.

“Ready when you are!”

“But I could still outmuscle you on the ice or in a fight,” Alexa replied confidently, loading up one and a half times her weight on the bar, starting to do her squats. She let out a breath with each one, her form good as she kept going. “... weightlifting day is my least favorite.”

Matthias winks, and watches, his hands following the bar up and down as Alexa moves. 

“Well, we’re always free to put that to the test on cardio day - boxing and wrestling has always been such a fun way to get exercise, anyway! And now -?”

He stretches his shoulders, and steps back as she finishes her set.

“ - Now I feel like I might actually stand a chance. And that’s… that’s thrilling, it really is.”

“Matthias, I do boxing and judo,” Alexa chuckled a little bit. “... heh. We ended up in similar habits anyways, didn't we? You really are a copycat.”

He paused a little, surprisingly quiet for a moment, as though he was deep in thought. He takes a bit too long before he steps up to the squat bar, racking an extra plate on either side, before he takes the weight onto his shoulders - slowly, carefully lowering it down, his squat reaching very low - oddly flexible for such a bear of a man - before gently elevating himself. He takes long, slow breaths, doing everything with a deliberateness that was unlike his other exercises - this seemed to be one that he was uniquely good at, without a hint of the unfamiliarity and sloppier form that could be seen at other stations.

“I’ve… wondered about that, I suppose. I spent so much time chasing after success by emulating the successful, but I don’t know if that success is really… mine.”

He reracks the bar with a heavy, metallic clattering noise.

“And what’s funnier is, I don’t know if that matters - or why it feels like it should.”

He looks back with a more subdued smile.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m one good slip-up away from giving the whole ruse away, and revealing that I’m nowhere near as good as I’ve been pretending to be - to others, or myself. I’d hoped it would go away in the majors - and it has, at least a bit.”

He pauses - stacking another set of plates, and lifting the bar again. 

“Sorry - I’m… thinking too much, do you mind if I do a second set?”

“... I think you should ask yourself how that success is not yours,” Alexa replied instead. “Are a scientist's discoveries not theirs because they built off the work of thousands of others? Is a good house not a good house because it uses methods invented for other houses? Would an Ironman winner not be qualified because they trained in the ways that have been proven to work?... copying others, doing what works for others for ourselves, that's how people learn, Matthias. That's what makes us different from animals.”

He leans on the bar a moment, trying to think up some witty comeback or other, but he just stops - looks over to her, and laughs - not his usual chuckling, more of a belly laugh, as she casually unpicked an insecurity that had driven him insane in the matter of a few breaths.

“… Do you make a habit of following your own advice, Alexa, or are words that wise only reserved for your teammates?”

He asks as he resets the weights, and wipes down the equipment, content to follow her through the rest of her routine.

“My problem isn't insecurity,” Alexa said, pausing to think. “... you should see the team psychologist. So should I. Probably.”

“We have a team psychologist?”

He asks, incredulously.

“… do… do we pay for that?”

“The team does,” Alexa said. “What team doesn't have a shrink these days? St Louis had one and that team was in shambles when I was there.”

“Thank goodness for Popol. Our team’s chaplain.”

And our team’s music critic! He smiles to himself, hoping the gentleman was enjoying himself with the Wolfpack over in New England. While they were opponents now, they still wrote often - but he wrestled his mind back to Alexa, and he asked more pointedly -

“What’s next, then? We’ve hit chest, then legs, is it time to work our backs on pull-ups? Or is it back to our chest with pec flies?”

He looked at her expectantly, the hot blood flowing through him, not wanting to let himself grow cold with inactivity - no matter how fulfilling the talk might be. He was here now, he was catching up, he was tasting his potential for the first time in his life. He wanted more of it.

“Point the way, Captain.”

He said with a teasing grin, no longer worrying about the barrier that such a title might’ve implied.

“Like a puppy,” Alexa snorted, heading to the bar. She jumped up, grabbing on, starting to do chin ups. “Don't worry, I didn't forget exercise.”

He slung himself up on the bar next to hers, and matched her rhythm - slow, difficult, rewarding - it amazed him how easily it came now, like breathing, or walking. A year ago, he would have fruitlessly tried to compete with her, and now with the muscles to finally do it, he found that he didn’t want to. It was tranquil, almost meditative, and after his first set, looking to see that they were far from finished, he slipped an earbud from his pocket, and offered it to her.

“That's alright,” Alexa reached into her own pocket, one hand gripping the bar, and allowed him her own ear bud. “... you made me realize I should have some of these for myself.”

He accepts the earbud, and he hears the familiar “bluetooth connected” chirp, before his eyes widen - and a blast of Enrique Iglesias fills his ears. That earwormy blast of Spanish pop made him turn and look - that was the last thing he’d expected to come from Alexa’s playlists.

“Bailando?”

He asks, a little smile on his face. ‘It changes,’ indeed.

“I actually speak spanish, you know,” Alexa replied, the smallest trace of a smile on her face as she jumped up and gripped the bar with both hands. It wasn’t long into the exercise that Bailando ended, and an entirely different feeling song came on. “... Fake It, by Bastille.”

He hums the melody as he starts his pull-ups, and as the song fades, he begins to transition to one-handed negatives - it’s slow, draining work, and sweat beads on his brow, stinging his eyes. But, he finishes his set, and turns to look at her -

“You know -”

He starts, wiping his palms and taking a long drink of water, his body opening up and sweat starting to pour down the front of his shirt, staining it dark.

“- I always used to listen to Anberlin with you in the Scarecrow gym - it was usually the stuff that was playing, but after I got through their discography, I went hunting for a sound like it - do you know the band Greek Fire, by any chance?”

He asks, mentally noting the language in his mind. How had he known her for this long, and yet he still hadn’t known that…

“Don’t think so,” Alexa grunted, still doing chin-ups herself. “Anberlin… good band. Good choice. I’ll listen to Greek Fire at home.”

“‘A Real Life’ has been on my gym playlists since I first heard it - the electronica - whew!

He grunts, switching to his other hand and continuing with his negatives. He had to focus, lest his hand slip, but joining Edmonton has changed his musical taste quite a bit - indie and alt rock from Gwendolyn had been a wonderful mixup, and Irish punk and nordic metal from Roisin had changed his whole perspective on what music could be, how it could make him feel. 

“- it’s something else. What’s your next exercise, eh?  Normally I’d pivot to T-bar rows, but I’m curious where you’d head next!”

“This is where I would leave the weight room, actually,” Alexa dropped to the floor, shaking out her arms. “I would do skate exercises now. But the rest of the team will be in soon, took longer than usual on this… of course, I got to do my bench press early, so no real complaints there.”

He stretches, wheeling his arms to get some of the soreness out. He checked the clock on the wall - 10:45. The blizzard seemed to have abated, at least. He smiled to himself at the unintended pun, and reached into his bag to grab his towel.

“Did you have breakfast this morning, Alexa? I skipped out, but I might grab a bite before I come back - hopefully I can learn a little bit about point shooting from Jeyeff and Matviy - and if you’re feeling very generous -”

He grinned

“I’d like to try out takeaway practice again.”

“I always eat at six fifteen in the morning,” Alexa replied. “Breakfast is always over by six thirty-five. You should maintain a set schedule, Matthias, and a routine. That's the way to optimal play. As for practice… we can. No doubt you've improved much, but you might still find yourself disappointed as of yet.”

“My schedule is a little broken - six months of sun and all that. As for the disappointment, I’m not so sure - a year ago, I couldn’t dream of doing the things I can do now. And I know that you’re a moving target.”

He cocks his head, and considers it for a moment.

“And besides - if I’ve narrowed the gap even a little, then it will have been worth it. Really worth it. In the end, taking a puck off my own teammate proves very little - other skaters don’t move the way you do, but… I got so far learning from an example you set. I’d like to see where I’ve gotten in my years of training without it.”

“Two years, Matthias,” Alexa actually laughed. “Let's not be overly dramatic. Fine, fine… right now. Time to see how your stamina is going,” she said, leading the way to the locker room just to grab her stick, helmet, and skates, then heading out to the ice. 

“Two hundred fifty-odd training days - it’s not such a small span.”

He grabs his stick, and skates out onto the ice himself - he almost seemed smaller, like he’d lost weight - but no. Looking at him now, he was just more trim - his excess bulk carefully removed. What was left behind was even greater power, packed into the frame of a denser, leaner man.

“My favourite colour is green, you know.”

He says, tossing a puck down onto the ice, and sending it off in a gentle pass.

“Random. Unless you’re saying you hope the bruises you end up with turn green,” Alexa chuckled, capturing the puck. She didn’t show him the burst she had a few years ago in the J, instead skating side to side, controlling the puck, slowly coming closer.

Matthias skates forward oddly, not using his speed, but taking his time - his posture allowing him to snap in direction, to switch from forward momentum to hard, C-cuts in reverse at a moment’s notice. His stick stayed out in front, and he watched her closely. It was so much easier with her helmet on, her face covered with that visor. How to approach this - she was still his senior in balance, speed, and stamina. He would have to be quick about it. He had the slightest edge over her in positioning, and he was still better than her at stickchecking… not that it counted for much. He was certainly no forward - and her stick handling was far greater than his. He’s have to be crafty. He put a little more gas into his skates, and moved to intercept.

“And while California rolls are nice, once I tasted proper crab, I just couldn’t go back to the imitation stuff.”

“Now I have to bruise you. California rolls are one of the two best kinds of sushi,” Alexa said, pushing suddenly and quickly wide of him, seeming fully committed to it… until she spun, skating backwards for a moment, puck on her stick but her body in his way.

“Her old trick.”

He remembered, casting his mind back to that first day with Ozzy, her cut to the inside, her roller blade manoeuvre. 

“She ducks to the left, drops her shoulder, and levered me out of the way, priming herself for a wrist shot.”

It wouldn’t matter if he’d had a follow-up dman, her shot got off before the second hit could connect. Back then, she’d been faster and stronger - much more so. He realized something else at that moment.

She still was. 

Matthias took a careful glide backwards, using the brief moment to think - aggression might work, but she’d used the distance to push past. He had to take that distance away - had to nullify her stick handling advantage, had to stop her momentum and prevent her from cutting around him with her agility, had to…

He didn’t stop skating backwards, but slowed, waiting until his chest was nearly against her back, before his stick curled beneath hers, driving it forward against the ice like a wedge, prying the blade of her stick off of the ice. His right knee rested against her thigh, his left forearm at her elbow, the back of her head against his neck guard. Her avenues of attack covered, angles smothered, and body enveloped by his own. 

“Being big is only useful if you can use it.”

He remembered, the puck quietly trailing away from them both.

“Mistake,” was the only warning he got before a subtle, sharp tossing back of her head. Her whole body seemed to lean into him, suddenly her entire weight his to support for a few moments before she sprang back, stick back on the ice, puck under control in a flash, going left- no. She leaned left but her feet turned her right instead. 

She was… light.

He didn’t have a witty comeback, feeling her shift away from him for a moment - before she leaned away, her weight moving left, back onto… his knee? He paused for a second, before rolling on his shoulder, keeping contact with her, and turning on his skate’s inside blade - his left hand raising his stick, and sweeping it out in a wide, arcing cut. She was hard to keep up with, but he stuck to her like a stubborn barnacle, keeping her stick tied up with his. His eyes would lie, but she couldn’t hide where her mass moved. He smiled. Even if he wasn’t good enough to capitalize on it, he’d found something he could use.

“Keep your eyes open,” Alexa scolded, the battle of their sticks continuing, but always she kept the puck just out of his reach, somehow. “And your speed under control,” she added, pushing him, forcing him to go faster and faster to keep up, until she suddenly hit the breaks, coming to a quick stop and preparing a rapid shot.

He saw it - the puck moved back for just an instant - a wrist shot, high on the blocker side. The puck was already rolling down the face of the blade, nearly at the toe - he couldn’t get his stick in the way quickly enough - he’d have to block it. He pulled his right arm low over his mouth, and drove his stick in a tight jab towards the puck, just in case Alexa went for a feint. His right knee dropped, his arm tightened against his side, and his chin tucked into his chest - he must’ve looked quite odd, to be blocking in such a way with no armour at all on, but he’d drilled it many times - his muscles tightened for an instant, hoping for a feint, but prepared for a shot.

“Brave,” Alexa said by way of praise. There was a feint, but not quite the one Matthias might have hoped for; as he wound up to block high, Alexa twisted her wrists, moved her hips. It was definitely a slapshot, but it wasn’t going high. It was going between his spreading legs, past his stick, it was sent…

Matthias’ stick crashed forward in a final thrust, striking against the blade of Alexa’s own stick, bouncing wildly across the puck, before slipping to the side and returning to his grip. He kept his eyes open, waiting to see if she moved to recover, or if she’d try for a backhand shot instead. His thighs tensed, his body coiled up like a spring, as his gaze shifted from her stick, to her hands, to her eyes - where was she looking? Where were her eyes moving t - her eyes. Gosh, they were beautiful, and never more so than when she was on the ice. Like river water running over slate, reflecting a clear sky, or the hottest part of a roaring flame, the ice white of the rink danced in them - and he found that he just couldn’t look away.

“Where are you looking now?” Alexa asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn't have the puck at all now. But for the moment, they were focused on each other, it seemed. “... Matthias?”

“- did you?”

He asked, not quite able to look away, his gaze steady as he took her in, looking so much like the day they’d first met.

“- see anyone, for those two years, Alexa?”

He asked. His words didn’t catch in his throat this time, and he didn’t glance away. His voice was gentle, but it was pointed, direct. Focused. 

Alexa sighed, pinching her nose. “Seriously? Are you serious right now, Matthias?... no, obviously not. I’m too focused on hockey, as is. And not romantic. And not looking for romance, not… not right now. There’s too much still to do. I just… don’t have time,” she said, skating around him to collect the puck. “... I think that’s enough for now, don’t you?”

He paused, and watched her as she skated around him, picking up the puck, and not looking at him.

“Is it still sky blue?”

He asked, not skating to the bench for a moment. His heart felt heavy, and his feet wouldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted them to.

“Is what still sky blue?” Alexa asked, but before he could answer, she realized. “... yes. It’s still sky blue. You remembered that?... I don’t hate you, Matthias. I… you deserve better. Someone who won’t tell you you're second most important.”

“And is it still California rolls, too?”

He leans back, and looks up into the lights at the top of the arena, closing his eyes.

“Yeah. Still love a good California roll,” Alexa confirmed, making a small circle on the ice. “... why? I don't get you, Matthias. You make… no sense to me.”

“… and it changes.”

He finished, and smiled, as he looked over to her.

“A lot of things have changed for you, I’m sure - priorities and plans and teammates, but some things haven’t changed - some thing haven’t changed for me, either.”

He skated up to her, and stopped, placing a hand on her hockey stick, and speaking softly.

“It’s purple. And oven baked pizza. And it changes. But my feelings haven’t - I don’t need to do this, just like I don’t need purple hockey tape or need pizza on the first night of an away game. But I do want it, Alexa. And being someone’s second most important person… your second most important person - that sounds quite nice.”

He smiled, took off his helmet, and let go of her stick, putting his helmet down at his side. His eyes met hers, and his voice, though it was hesitant, was stable and sincere.

“Please - don’t choose for me, Alexa. I can see my feelings through on my own.”

He added, rebuffing her concern, and surprising himself - contradicting his captain was… unusual, but it felt right, and when he met her eyes, his gaze was simple, unguarded. Honest.

“... you are going to keep trying, won't you?” Alexa sighed. “... if you really… think I'm worth that effort… we can try it. One date! One. In the off season! Alright?”

“You make it sound more like a surrender than a date, Alexa.”

He says, a laugh building in his chest, as he looks her up and down, a smile slowly starting to reach his eyes - when he couldn’t hide it any longer, he grinned, and skated forward happily, reaching his hand up!

“I didn’t - I didn’t know I was such an obstinate burden to you, captain,” 

He teased, his hand reaching out to boop Alexa on the nose.

“But I suppose if we must….”

He says, drawing it out, and teasing her more - but his eyes didn’t lie. His heart was thrilled, and he could hardly wait. Someone felt the way about him that he felt about them - he seemed to skate above the ice, floating on air.

“You're as stubborn as a bull. Obstinate is barely strong enough,” Alexa snorted. “You got what you wanted, don't push your luck!” She added, taking back control of her stick and skating away. She couldn't quite hide a small smile, though.

“I hope you got what you wanted, too.”

He said, quietly, as he watched her skate away. He’d never seen her look like that, with her shoulders so far back, and her hair swaying - it was one of those moments that he captured in his mind, and he knew he would ever forget.

“I hope she knows how beautiful she is.”

He said, quietly. But not quite quietly enough.

[8,710 words]
(Please split evenly between Cake307 and Athiest_Caliph)