Chapter Text
Not that Jason wasn’t happy that their home rink’s cooling system was getting reconstructed, don’t get him wrong. But it was such a drag to drive across the city to the other rink. Detroit Ice Castle, really, what kind of a lame name was that? He vaguely remembered training there once when he was still in high school. Different name but no doubt same stinking changing rooms with peeling paint and medieval technology. Maybe that’s why it was called ice castle? He snorted at his own joke as he followed the GPS instruction to turn left.
“You have arrived at your destination,” the smooth female voice informed him. Fuckin’ finally.
Parking his Porsche at the half-empty car park he stretched his back before grabbing his sports bag and locking his pride and joy. He turned to face the building and felt his jaw drop at the sight. Okay, that... That was definitely not the same old dilapidated shit. Whoever bought the place obviously invested a fuckton into its modernisation. Jason only hoped the rink itself had received similar treatment.
A sign at the door informed the visitors that the rink was closed to public due to private practice. For up-to-date information on opening hours/reservations please visit DetroitIceCastle.com or follow us on Facebook (Detroit Ice Castle). Rolling his eyes Jason pushed the unlocked door open. The interior had the same blue/gray colour scheme as the front of the building. Pretty nice, if you ask him. There was no one at the reception desk, so he just shrugged and followed the signs to the men’s locker room.
“Yo,” he nodded at his teammates. They acknowledged him with grunts and nods of their own.
“Yo, Jay!” Mike grinned at him. “Whaddya think? Pretty sweet, right?” he asked, spreading his arms to indicate the space around.
“Not bad,” Jason admitted, going for a casual unimpressed tone, though the opposite was true.
Mike scoffed. “Have you seen the rink yet? They extended it to Olympics-size! And they have this super-fast resurfacer, you know, like the one they used at the Worlds last year, and this brand new cooling tech...” Jason tuned him out as he changed into his hockey gear.
Minutes later their coach burst into the room, doing a quick headcount and glaring at Thomas, who was still only half-dressed. Coach Tony hated lateness with a passion of thousand burning suns. “Everybody’s here, good. Get your lazy asses on the ice, I don’t have all day!” he barked in the full drill sergeant mode.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” the team captain commented dryly when he was sure Tony wouldn’t overhear. Detroit Ice Tigers nodded in agreement.
The training went well, even Tony had to admit it with a small Nod of Approval, which, coming from him, was a high praise. Jason was exhausted but full of satisfaction at the job well done. The small audience consisting of the team’s hardcore fans, reporters and competitors’ secret and not-so-secret scouts clapped enthusiastically as the final whistle sounded, and gathered around the barriers to take photos with their idols and/or ask for autographs. Secretly bored, Jason put on his famous Charming Smile #3 and habitually scanned the small crowd for someone even remotely interesting. A lone figure in the back caught his attention – a young Asian cutie with black hair and nerdy glasses. He was sitting alone on one of the benches, seemingly immersed in his phone. Aww, he was too shy to come closer, how adorable!
“Hey,” Jason nudged Will, “check out my future boyfriend.” (He had a thing for shy guys, okay? Sue him.)
“Oh?” Will raised his eyebrow sceptically. “What if he’s straight?”
He totally asked for it.
“So is spaghetti until it’s wet.”
Will groaned and turned away from him. “I have nothing to do with this man! I don’t even know him!” he informed everyone loudly.
They chuckled, long used to Will and Jason’s antics, and proceeded to ignore them both.
“But seriously, Jay, a guy like him is probably taken.”
“If his partner is at least half as good-looking, I won’t say no to a threesome,” Jason declared with a grin.
As predicted, it earned him a groan from his captain. “One of these days you’ll meet someone who will turn you down, mark my words.”
“Yeah, sure.” Come on, Jason was the best looking man in Ice Tigers, hell, probably in the entire hockey league. He was a part-time model, for crying out loud! Sponsors fought over the chance to offer him a contract. Besides, confidence was sexy and he was plenty confident.
Cute Asian Guy stayed even after the crowd of admirers dispersed. He was now talking to a long haired blond but Jason decided to go for it anyway. Taking his helmet off he mussed up his hair into an artful mess.
The plan was simple and fool-proof:
1) Walk up to the guy, smile at him, offer an autograph.
2) Ask for a name to put into the dedication.
3) Add Jason’s phone number, draw a small heart next to it, leave with a flirty wink. Hook, line, and sinker.
Yuri looked up in annoyance as one of the hockey players approached them with a totally fake media smile which he probably thought was charming. (News flash: it wasn’t.)
“Hi,” he greeted them both but immediately focused his attention on Katsudon.
“Hello,” Katsudon offered.
Another confident, artificially flirty smile that made Yuri want to punch his face. “Autograph?”
“Sure,” Katsudon smiled back and fished out a notebook and pen from his backpack. Then, much to the hockey player’s confusion, he signed a blank page, ripped it off and handed it to the guy.
Yuri bit his lip and pressed his hand to his mouth in a helpless attempt to hold back laughter.
“Jay! You coming or what?” one of the guy’s teammates yelled.
Katsudon’s phone rang. “Sorry, I have to take this. Da, Vitya?”
Completely flabbergasted, the JJ-wannabe nodded mechanically at Katsudon before turning to catch up with his team, clutching the sheet signed by someone he obviously didn’t know.
Yuri was still laughing when Katsudon ended the phone call three minutes later.
Back at home Jason unfolded the note.
Good luck, #16!
Under that, some unreadable crisscrossing lines of what he guessed might be a signature in Chinese or Japanese alphabet. Huh. Apparently the guy was famous. The problem was Jay had absolutely no idea who he was. And if Cute Asian Guy thought Jason was his fan it meant Jay couldn’t just casually ask about his name. But, on the other hand, it also meant it would be easy to get the cutie to talk about whatever he was famous for, right? (Jason himself was always ready and willing to talk about hockey, especially with interested fans.) It shouldn’t be too hard. Surely an opportunity would arise and the adorable shy eye-candy would drop a hint – something Jason could google to find out his identity. He wanted to give himself a pat on the back. It was a good strategy. He was looking forward to their next meeting.