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Allison flies the OG Foxes out to New Orleans for a final hurrah. The season and term are ticking down on their last year at PSU and it has Dan brimming with equal parts relief and anxiety. She’s fucking done with University — she’s already signed to coach right hand for the Sacramento Swans, all she needs is the clock to catch up with that decision. She’s ready to make her mark on the big leagues.
The trip is a well needed respite. Emotions are running high among the team, as always. Neil, Matt, and Kevin are struggling the most with the three of them departing. Their specifics vary but Dan knows it’s the void they’ll leave that these boys fear. Absences in a support system takes a hell of an adjustment period.
Allison and Matt pay for the bulk of the airfares before everyone’s even agreed to come. Dan struggles not to smile the whole time they cite psychological trauma as the reason why they’re leaving. The baby Foxes have been hell to carral and she does not envy Neil one whit. She laughs aloud when Matt whispers to her later that he has enough assholes in his life.
Unsurprisingly Allison secures them a hotel in one of the more bustling areas of the city. They arrive late that night with only time enough for dinner. The vibrant music pouring from the city streets is enough to wake Dan after a day of travel and humid air. The abundance of street food and sweet alcohols also help liven her up.
“I can’t-- I can’t get the lock,” Matt laughs, leaning his forehead against the door. Dan shoulders him aside and pushes the key card through the slot slower. Too slow.
She frowns. “It wasn’t this hard to get in before.” Matt drapes himself over her like an opulent fur coat and laughs until she gets the speed right. The light eventually turns green and they stumble into their apartment.
The theme is of a bright white decadence with brick walls, natural wood paneling and gold accents. She’d say it’s by far the most expensive place she’s ever stayed but she feels that way every time Allison takes her somewhere and neither of them have ever cared to look over the prices.
The queen bed is shrouded in low light. Relaxing against the riot of pillows are two swan towels, their noses nestled together.
Dan stumbles across the open plan room, kicking off her heels. She throws the balcony doors open and lets the cool night air wash over her. It’s tempered by a beautiful melody, something sweet and teasing that eases the humidity of the city.
She looks over her shoulder. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, tugging his loafers off. He winks, his eye staying needlessly shut, when he notices her looking.
Dan spins. Hands landing on the rail, she leans her weight back on them. “Wanna have sex?”
His mouth slowly opens. “What?”
She shrugs, feeling light and friendly after a couple drinks. There’s a heart full of affection in her chest that she wants to rain down on him. “That’s how this goes right?” She gestures vaguely to the titillating room. All it needs are a few candles and it’d make it onto some pinterest list of dream fuck sights.
Matt does a double take at the swans. “If you want? Yeah, this is how we’re told it goes. And yes, this is what the room suggests, but it can also be fictitious and staged if you want. None of that matters, this is our time.”
She squints at him. Matt can be cautious to an irritating degree, almost patronising at times, but him breaking sex pections down to various options gives her perspective. She tends to appreciate it more than she doesn’t. That’s not to say she doesn’t know her options – she does, she’s been browbeaten by this hypersexual world since birth. It’s more that she wants to make sure Matt isn’t looking at a fairy tale like this and wishing they could dip into that sparkling world, for just a moment.
Still, he would have said if he wanted to get off and Dan’s interest waxs and wanes with his. “I definitely want to be intimate right now.”
“We can do that,” he says, flopping back onto the bed and sweeping the swans to the floor. They fall aside, forgotten.
“Go on then,” she says, sauntering up to the bed. “Show me some nonsexual intimacy.”
Matt struggles upright. “Okay,” he says, then: “Pyjamas,” and “I’ll be right back.”
He walks backwards out of the room, a finger pointed at her. Dan stifles a laugh and chases him out. She slams the door right on his heels, grinning when he yelps.
The first thing she does is iron her pyjamas. Her silk nightshirt is creased from where she shoved it in her suitcase. It slides over her skin like a warm caress. She kicks her panties across the room and throws herself on the bed when she’s done.
It is a truly luxurious night when she can lie back and pick up a book. Too fucking bad she can’t focus her tipsy mind to settle. She fans herself with it instead. Her thoughts strays to her team, no doubt reclining in beds of their own. They’re all on the same floor; even Aaron had implied he’d prefer they were all close. Part of her thinks they spend too much time together but with so little left to share complaining seems short sighted.
She knows the Monster’s will look out for another. They’re promised to one another. And in terms of her boy Nicky, Aaron, and Neil have already welcomed Matt into the fold. There are many things Dan’s looking forward to next year but Matt making it into the Monster’s inner sanctum out of a strange mix of pity and solidarity is high on the list. The process is more a formality at this point, what with the dangers having died down. She’d been there when Renee had discussed handing Matt over to Andrew. Dan hadn’t said a word but then neither had he; their attendance said it all.
Finding about their division of labour had irked her at first. The Foxes are her team; and that had been why she never made the cut. She wasn’t a band-aid or a stepping stone. There never would have been a division if she’d had it her way and Renee had simply humoured the discord between the Foxes where she wouldn’t. Not to mention their ideas of fighting are very fucking literal which, she concedes, had been needed at times. What with all the fucking yakuza bullshit.
Dan’s not worried about the team. They care for one another now.
Matt returns after five minutes with a box of wine raised triumphantly about his head and a plastic bag swinging haphazardly from his shoulder.
Dan flies to the foot of the bed, jet fueled by amusement. “I ask for intimacy and you bring me box wine!”
“Listen,” he says, producing two fancy wine glasses from the bag, “you didn’t know this existed a moment ago. That’s magic. Magic is…love. And love-- is intimacy!”
She falls flat on the bed, hands resting on her stomach. “And where did you get this miraculous magic wine from?”
He sits cross-legged on the bed and shrugs. “I asked around. Our team is actually capable of kindness. Who fucking knew, right?”
Dan copies his position and reaches for the bag. The plastic is giving off a surprising amount of heat, the clinging condensation soaking the bed. “What is this?” The top layer of secrets is made up of chocolates: white, milk, and dark. Her pleased noise cuts off when she feels how soft they are. They’ve gone warm and lax. “What's in here?”
Matt is attempting to drink from a glass of wine while filling up another. Considering the button on the box, he’s short a hand or two.
Her’s are unfortunately too full for an assist. She shoves her hand beneath the pile of chocolate and encounters a damp, heated cloth. Her head jerks up. “Hot towels?”
“Yeah,” he says, offering her a glass. “Though we should probably turn on the air-conditioning if we want to use them. Do you want to put on a movie or a music?”
Dan leaps off the bed. “Why stop at one music?”
Matt falls in a controlled collapse onto the bed, his attention wholly on the wine. “I’m buzzed. I probably shouldn’t drink more.”
“What, no?” Dan says, messing around with her Spotify. “It’s been ages since we hung out like this.”
“We’re proper adults now,” he says, toasting her despondently.
She shushes him, crawling back onto the bed and pressing a finger to his lips. “There’s no need to pretend when it’s just us. Who’re you fooling?”
“Damn it,” he whispers, “I was going to get some of those candy necklaces but I hesitated.”
“It’s clear to me now,” she whispers, “you’re the fool.”
Matt heaves a dramatic sigh. “Fuck, society got us brainwashed by expectation.”
“Let’s do something unexpected then,” she says. “Wanna try and squash in the bath together?”
Matt hops off the bed, bursting into guilty laughter when his wine splashes down his front. Dan shoves her face between his shoulder blades and urges him on, her hands dancing around his hips. She swipes his glass at some point and chugs it to catch up to him. They forget almost everything they need but after a few return trips they’re standing over the bath, sizing it up dubiously.
“I mean it’s decent, for a bathtub,” Matt says.
Dan stands with her hands on her hips. “I am thoroughly disappointed in Allison.”
He snorts. “This wouldn’t be an issue if I weren’t so tall.”
“You’re right,” she says with a sneaky smile. She lifts her leg too high to over the tub edge and wobbles. “You can sit on the rug.”
Matt makes an incredulous noise and climbs inside, slamming his foot down heavily. He winces, trying not to laugh. “I’m a little-- my head’s a little, spinning.”
Dan sinks down into the bath, her silk shirt making the ride smooth and lush. The cold porcelain is pleasant on her hot skin, particularly her bare ass. Matt squats opposite her and struggles to creep his legs around her. She sips at her wine, making sure to look as relaxed as possible. Its difficult not to smile.
Eventually Matt contorts himself enough to somewhat comfortably fit. He shucks his shirt and sighs happily as he reclines against the tub wall. “This is nice.”
Despite having his knees up around her ears and her’s up under her chin she has to agree. She crosses her ankles, leans her knees into his and it makes a great place for her to rest her forearms. Her hands are full: chocolate in one and a glass of wine dangling from the other. This is the fucking life.
“See here we go,” she says, unable to sound wholly serious, “we sure showed the status quo.”
Matt’s voice is muffled from where he hangs over the edge of the bath. “We should watch High School Musical later.”
“Not tonight later,” she says, dropping her head back. The surprisingly pretty ceiling tiles sway overhead. “I’m too lethargic to ever leave this bath.”
“Yeah, no,” Matt says, snuggling back into the tub. “I want to do it sober. Plus I will need firemen, preferably sexy ones, to free me from this tiny prison.” He hooks the hot towels over the edge of the bath and drops the chocolate somewhere down between their crotches. Dan cringes away from the heat.
He nods sympathetically. “I didn’t realise how hot this is. And then, y’know, wine.” He pats at his cheeks in long lingering presses and she finds herself reaching over, envious. Matt grins as he collects her hand and presses it to his flushed cheek. She strokes over his eyebrow and he rubs against her like a cat. A good-natured, stubbly, inconveniently large kitty cat.
They sit in that content silence for a while. Dan’s head agreeably heavy and mellow. Matt reaches out with one finger and runs it affectionately down her cheek. Up and down, up and down. He has to bend his legs to reach and it presses his bare skin into the hot towels.
“Fuck, gross,” he says, recoiling. “I’m going to run them under the cold tap.”
The taps are perched on the wall between them. Dan yelps before he can even begin reaching for them. “Wait a goddamn minute!”
She gathers the chocolate into her lap after checking it's all unopened. She then drags up her silk nightshirt until she’s sure it’ll be out of the splash zone. There doesn’t seem to be any more clothes ruining hazards at the moment but she’ll watch him.
Matt stares down between their legs, incredulous. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”
“You said this was going to be a comfy, treat yourself kind of night,” she points out, grandiose. “Or implied it. Or I decided, I can’t remember.” He’s wearing socks in the bath anyway and she hasn’t said a word.
Matt expectedly chubs up. She does look all sleek and fine in this silk piece. His eyes turn heavy lidded as they take her in, his lips parting. Dan raises her eyebrow and he shrugs. Chocolate releases the same chemicals as orgasms right? They’ll make do. She stretches her foot out and drags it over his clothed cock. He groans, rocking his hips lightly.
Dan gestures to their relaxed position, splashing wine. “Read the room, babe.”
Matt shoves her foot away, laughing. He points one of the hot towels at her threateningly. It flags, hanging sadly and yet dangerously close to her leg.
She waves her hand. “Get them wet already.”
Matt shakes his head in mock dismay. “You’re bratty when you’re drunk.”
She holds her hands out, palms up. “And your attention span evaporates, like my patience for you right now – towels.”
He bursts into incredulous laughter, pointing his finger like she proved his point or something.
“Dude,” she says.
“It is hot,” he concedes. The taps turn on with a blast of cool water. It streaks pleasantly down her leg in refreshing caress. Matt sighs, stroking water over his face.
She leans into the sensation. “Why didn’t we fill up the tub?” she asks idly.
“I didn’t think of it,” he says after a lengthy pause. His focus is rapt on towels. Dan can’t wait to get one on her. She starts to struggle out of her nightshirt – stopping to chug her wine and dump the chocolate on the floor – before continuing.
The cold water pools around her ass and she wiggles, enjoying the touch. New Orleans is hot as shit compared to Palmetto.
Matt catches sight of her naked form and wastes no time stripping off. She grins when he smacks his knee getting back in. He pouts until she kisses him better.
The plug sinks into the drain with an easy push and the tub begins to slowly fill. Matt drapes the first towel around her shoulders, and she sighs, leaning into his retreating touch. He smiles, dazedly at her, playing with her damp edges.
“I love that you’re growing your hair out,” he says quietly, stroking his fingers over those baby hairs.
“I look way pretty, hey?” All the gossip mags had been all over her, questioning whether her professionalism was dropping because this was her final year. Dan had kept her mouth shut and combed her afro out — she’ll show them. “I’m gonna be a kickass coach, right?
His head drops onto his shoulder, smiling softly. “Yeah, baby, on both counts.”
“You’re gonna make the Hall of Fame,” she says. There’s no doubt.
Matt bites his lip. “You think?”
“Babe, I know,” she says, taking his hand. “I’ve seen you play.”
He takes her’s in both of his, running his thumb along her nail. “I really like you,” he whispers, quiet like a confession.
Dan’s stomach jumps, her mouth twisting into a smile. She pulls her hand free, turns off the tap and rearranges them until she’s between his legs. He wraps around her, invitingly warm against the pleasant chill of the water and the weighty heat of the air. She grabs the chocolate and breaks off a couple soft squares. One goes in her mouth, the other in Matt’s. He sucks the sweet mess off her fingers and presses a sticky kiss to her palm before returning it to her.
He tucks his nose into the crook of her neck. “Can I braid you hair?”
Dan nods, pressing another square to his lips. He kisses it from her fingers.
They stay in that easy play of teamwork until their skin runs over with goosebumps. They make practical use of the swans, drying one another off languidly. The bed waits for them with open arms. It’s offer goes unseen for all they notice, their arms already reaching for one another.