Login

***mer*** · 03-27-2024, 11:35 PM

Code:
Tags: hockey fpf, enemies to strangers to something, this is stupid

Aksel didn’t always pick up at home, but when he did, he made sure to wear his shimmery top. The guys made fun of it, but Aksel would patiently explain that shimmery gold tops were all the rage in Nordic countries and their North American culture just didn’t understand that. The guys would then point out that they were mostly Nordic as well, and he was stupid.

So not only was Aksel in his gold shimmery top, he was also alone. Which suited fine! He knew the bars in the area and they knew his top and loved him for it. He usually got a free beer out of it.

It was later in the day in the city, and like him, there were people on the streets heading out for the night after a long day at work. He’d gotten off the plane hours ago from a tough loss against Tampa Bay - he’d been the only one with a goal, but it didn’t matter when he’d lost 8 to 1. He fell into one of the seats on the metro, and the seats on either side of him stayed empty.

That was the other great thing about the shimmery shirt: people generally saw it, and immediately pinned him for a weirdo. Most didn’t look closer and recognize the Manhattan winger. He was also wearing his favorite stupid fish hat - his brother had sent it to him. It was stupid and ugly, and hid his shiny, conditioned hair well. It was starting to stick to his neck during games, but he didn’t want to cut it and sacrifice the flow.

The metro stopped on the edge of downtown, and Aksel hopped off and headed up the stairs and two streets over to his favorite dive bar. He’d hang out there and assess the vibes for the night before picking his next destination. His phone buzzed, but he didn’t look at it until after he was seated at the bar and had a generic IPA coming.

<Dude, you’re skipping out on New Year’s Eve plans?>

Aksel blinked, then thumbed back to his home screen. Sure enough, on the blue owl background, December 31st. Hmm. He typed back a response.

<What plans?>

He sipped slowly as three dots blinked at him.

<Lind has roof access. We were gonna watch fireworks. We talked about it after the game today?>

<O>

<Dumbass>

Aksel set the phone down and considered. He generally loved the team bonding stuff - but he’d been thinking about finding someone all day, maybe dancing, getting all his stupid out before the game tomorrow. He drank half the glass then pulled the phone out again.

<I’ll be back later>

<K>

He laughed, then glanced at the TV. It was showing highlights from the game today, and most of them were neon Barracuda jerseys. Aksel secretly loved them, but had complained to the press postgame that they were too damn bright and messed with his eyes. He hated giving excuses, but he couldn’t say bad shit about his team after a tough loss. Making up dumb stuff was easier for everyone.

“Hey,” Aksel bugged the bartender when his drink was refilled, “can you change it to uh, like, anything else?”

The man met his eyes, glanced at the screen, then turned back. “Nah, man. Play better next time.”

Aksel stewed as the man headed to a booth. “You’re getting a shit tip!”

Yep. Definitely a ‘dance until he couldn’t think’ kind of night.

He sulked and downed another beer as the bar got more crowded. He listened to a couple behind him talk about New Years’ Eve events at clubs and latched onto one of the names - a gay bar further into the city. Generally packed to the gills and had specials on rail drinks. That’d do. He closed the tab, left a big tip, then headed back outside.

It was unseasonably warm, Tampa worming its evil tropical tentacles into Aksel’s dependable frosty wasteland, and he grumbled to himself before heading back into the metro.

The streets were packed now, large packs of drunk twenty-somethings weaving into the street. Aksel dodged them, enjoying the buzz under his skin, and floated into the club. Cascada was bouncing off the walls, deep bass in his chest, and he felt a few years younger. Not on the verge of his veteran years, but a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed rookie looking to take on the world. It was enough to float him over to the bar and order a few jello shots.

He sucked the nasty little things down, then went to dance.

Aksel danced about as well as his shimmery shirt was fashionable - the guys made fun of him when they went out together. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, the movement was comfortable and mindless. He danced on the floor with the shirtless men, shrieking women in bachelorette garb, and shy-looking teenagers who became just as loud as the brides-to-be as the setlist played on.

Minutes or hours later, Aksel pulled himself from the mass back to the bar. His shirt was absolutely plastered to his chest and his hair was soaked. He opened his mouth to order another stupid little jello shot when he heard a voice next to him order a Sex on the Beach. Oh shit, that sounded good.

“Make that two.”

The bartender nodded and Aksel felt the stranger beside him turn. Aksel swiveled his whole body to face the man and grinned. He held out a hand. “Alex.” Fake names were necessary but also fun for these club outings.

The guy was cute. Chiseled jaw, dark hair that was just slightly too long and a bit floppy, and deep brown eyes. Most importantly, he was looking Aksel directly in the eyes. Short king solidarity.

The dude stared at Aksel’s hand and scoffed. “Who the hell shakes hands in a club,” he muttered, barely audible over the bass, as he shook Aksel’s hand. Strong grip, and a muscular forearm with an ugly brown shirt that was way too big for this guy. Cute. “Viktor,” he offered.

“Viktor!” Aksel crowed, because he liked repeating names and, after more jello shots than he could count on one hand, he liked being loud too. “You picked a good drink.”

Aksel’s new friend shook his head. “Nah, it’s a mistake. That much sugar is going to give me a crazy headache tomorrow.”

Oh shit. “Aw man, you’re right.” As he said that though, their drinks were set on the bar top, and they had the cutest little umbrella and the most colorful fruity toothpick. Aksel couldn’t help himself. He downed the whole thing. Glancing over, Viktor was staring at him with an expression between fascination and disgust. That’d do.

“Do you like to dance?” Aksel shimmied a little, like he was miming dancing.

The handsome guy with a nice handshake and good arms threw his head back and laughed. “Oh my god, you are the worst dancer and your shirt and hat are so ugly.” He sipped his drink. “Sure, yeah, I’ll dance with you.”

Aksel whooped and dragged the guy onto the completely disgusting dance floor. His expensive shoes felt wet and sticky, and he was briefly worried about slipping and breaking something, but then Viktor started dancing.

He was just as awful as Aksel.

They danced to throwback after throwback, got a few more horrible sugar drinks, and Aksel dared to dance closer. He was about to try something - stupid probably - like kissing a stranger while they were both drunk on fruity umbrella drinks, when there was some commotion around them.

“TEN!”

Aksel stilled and Viktor bumped into him, and he automatically set his hand on the man’s waist.

“NINE!”

Viktor met his eyes.

“EIGHT!”

“Should we-”

“SEVEN!”

Viktor blinked.

“SIX!”

Viktor moved closer.

“FIVE!”

Aksel forgot he was holding a drink and spilled it on Viktor’s huge brown shirt.

“FOUR!”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”

“THREE!”

Aksel tried to dry the sweaty man’s shirt off. Viktor rolled his eyes. “Alex, are you going to kiss me?”

“TWO!”

“Who-” Aksel started. Stopped. He was Alex. Right. “Um-”

“ONE!”

“Oh my god-” Viktor started, but Aksel dove in. They kissed as party poppers exploded around them, streamers fell from the ceiling, and the worst remix of Auld Lang Syne played on the speakers. It was gross and Aksel was exhausted from a game and from travel and-

Game. Hockey. His team. Lind’s roof. Puck.

Aksel pulled back, not far with Viktor’s arms around his neck and his looped around Viktor’s waist. “I, uh, I gotta go-”

Viktor stared. “What the fuck.”

“I uh. Yeah. Sorry. I’m like a million years old and you’re cute as a little button.” Aksel aimed to boop the guy on his nose but poked him in the eye instead. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I think it’s this gold shimmery shirt. It makes me want to get jello shots and kiss hot dudes.”

“I don’t think that’s how shirts work.”

Aksel successfully booped Viktor’s nose. “Thanks for the dancing, kid. You got schmooves. If you were Julia Stiles, you’d get into dance school.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Aksel gave the hot man who he would never see again a giant smooch on the lips, and then a gentle kiss on the eye he’d broken. “If you had a cat, I’d take your number so you can send me pictures-”

“I do have a cat-”

“-but alas, maybe in another life-oh shit, really?”

They swapped numbers.

“Ok but I do actually have to go now. My friend has fireworks on his roof or something. I’ll see you around?”

Viktor shook his head. “I’m just visiting.”

Oh.

Cascada started telling him to be her bad boy on the speakers. Circle of life and all that. “I had fun,” he said, voice even. “Thank you.”

Viktor removed his hand from his eye. It looked okay. “Ditto.”

Aksel nodded, pleased. “Do you like hockey?”

“Hate it.”

“Perfect.”

And then Aksel was out the doors, in an uber, and when he blinked, he was on Lind’s roof. The guys were razzing him for the dazed look on his face as he stared up at the bright bursting lights, and Lind slid a beer into his hand.

“Good night?”

Aksel nodded.

_x_

They were playing San Francisco on New Year’s Day, and pretending that they were not all hungover as shit and are running on more than two hours of sleep. Aksel and the other dependable vets of the team had done their early morning sickness rituals, then grabbed giant greasy breakfast sandwiches and three giant crates of coffee to hand feed to the tiny delicate babies of the team.

They did not pass go and they did not collect $200. Coach was pissed, chewed them out, and Adam Rage ran out of the locker room twice, looking incredibly green. Aksel wondered if the goalie would be alright to sit on the bench, or if he’d need someone to hold him upright.

Aksel was feeling almost alive, and went through the motions of the warm up and the line up. Lots of families in attendance for a midday holiday game, and he tried to look as happy and family-friendly as possible. San Francisco lined up across from him and the other starters, and one of those Pride guys looked - almost familiar.

Duh. He’s probably played the guy before.

They lined up for the puck drop and Familiar Guy went to take the faceoff. Morley lined up, and Aksel was flying. Two changes and a lineup in the zone later, the ref motioned Morley to the side. Aksel took his place and stared up into two angry deep brown eyes, one slightly red around the lashes.

Viktor scowled. “What the-”

“Fuck,” Aksel breathed, and swiped the puck over to Lind.

Coach yelled at Aksel when he got back to the bench for looking dazed, and Aksel went and assisted a Lind goal with a pass to Morley on his next shift, and was freed from lectures. He kept sneaking glances at Viktor Hargreeves, star of the San Francisco Pride, and hearing fireworks.

After the first period, Aksel sat in his stall and stared at his skates. He started when Jagrbomb drew near.

“Hey Bomby, you played with Hargreeves in the J, yeah?”

“Please call me something other than Bomby and yeah. Why?”

“Did he, uh,” Aksel frowned, trying to figure out how to do this, “is he, you know?” He put his arm up and let his wrist flop limp.

Jagrbomb blinked. “Um. Are you being an asshole or is this a serious question?”

“I’m being seriously serious.”

“Then yeah, he’s,” Jagrbomb flopped his wrist.

“What are you guys, uh, doing?” Rage was no longer green, and looked incredibly concerned.

“We’re just, y’know,” Aksel flopped his wrist. From across the locker room, a dude held up a fist and mouthed <Ally.> Aksel blew him a kiss.

The second period sucked, and the third period sucked a little less. Still, they solidified their sixth consecutive loss, and Aksel groaned into his gloves on the way back to the locker room. The mood was somber and still a little sickly, and Aksel quickly pulled on his sweats and did his Captain stuff before leaving the locker room.

He was halfway to his car when he noticed someone leaning on it.

“Hey, Alex,” Viktor greeted, deliberately slow on the name.

“I think you misunderstood my accent,” Aksel said apologetically, laying the Norwegian on thick.

Viktor rolled his eyes, then glanced around self-consciously. “So uh. Even though you lied-”

“You lied too,” Aksel interrupted, “you said you hated hockey.”

“-I do hate hockey. But also I love it.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Anyway! Even though you lied, I had fun last night. And I was uh, wondering,” he looked away as he said the next words, “do you want to get something to eat?”

Aksel blinked. “You were on the Citadelles with Jagrbomb.”

Viktor blinked. “That’s not an answer but, yeah.”

“I’m like six years older than you. I’m old enough to be your dad.”

“That’s not-”

“But sure yeah, we can go on a date.”

Viktor blinked. “Oh, yeah, okay.”

“You can play stuff on the radio. Because you’re cute.” Aksel unlocked the car.

“And because I won?”

“Nevermind, I’ve changed my mind, go home.”

Laughing, Viktor folded himself into Aksel’s passenger seat. Aksel, despite the loss and despite the aches and pains in his bones, felt lighter and younger. He sat up tall in the driver’s seat, and glanced at the San Francisco player out of the corner of his eye. They would have an away game against the Pride coming up soon, maybe he could pack the shimmery top for a night out, and maybe he wouldn’t have to be alone.

***Seany148*** · 03-28-2024, 12:01 AM

I will be reading allat but

Quote:He sucked the nasty little things down, then went to dance.

@mer explain

***mer*** · 03-28-2024, 12:11 AM

03-28-2024, 12:01 AMSeany148 Wrote: I will be reading allat but

@mer explain

Jell-O shots look like they should taste good but they don’t. This has been life lessons with hannah.

***RAmenAmen*** · 03-28-2024, 12:18 AM

03-28-2024, 12:11 AMmer Wrote: Jell-O shots look like they should taste good but they don’t. This has been life lessons with hannah.

This is a true statement. Or so I've heard.

skyrrhawk · 03-28-2024, 01:09 AM

03-28-2024, 12:11 AMmer Wrote: Jell-O shots look like they should taste good but they don’t. This has been life lessons with hannah.

get better jello shots then

Evok · 03-28-2024, 09:49 AM

I've been reading this fanfiction since i was 16, im so glad to see you come out of your 6 years hiatus with a new chapter. Can't wait to see what's next for that amazing Aktor ship <3

soevil · 03-28-2024, 12:35 PM

I'm offended that my player is only briefly mentioned in this very polarizing media and I hope that he becomes a recurring character.

Navigation

Extra Menu

About us