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look at this photograph

Summary:

The guy smiled awkwardly. “I like baking things for new people in the building. It gives me something to do when I’m not playing hockey.”

Cale took the pie and smiled.

“Hockey? I suppose the next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you play for the Avalanche.”

Cale placed the pie on the foyer table and looked at the guy intently.

The guy’s face turned a soft shade of pink as he pulled out his phone. He tapped on it a couple of times before he turned it to face Cale. Cale looked at what the guy wanted him to see and then looked up at the guy then back down at the phone. Cale did that a couple of times before he felt his face heating up.

Notes:

I know I posted a fic last night and another one this morning but like. I've just been inspired to repurpose my writing projects into RPF fics. I chose J.T./Cale because I needed an NHL player born in 1998 to fit one specific contextual clue in the fic. Cale was the first one I thought of and J.T. was the first person I thought of to pair him with, so yeah. That's why it's them. Anyone that can figure out what the contextual clue is is my new best friend because you obviously know your shit.

If you found this by Googling yourself, are in this yourself, or know someone in this, please click back. No harm was meant in the creation of this fic. It's fictional and meant for entertainment purposes.

Title from "Photograph" by Nickelback (Don't @ me. It's a good song!)

Work Text:

Moving was not something Cale enjoyed. Having to pack boxes, load them into a van or his car, and then drive them to his new place was exhausting. Thankfully, all of that was out of the way. All he had to do now was unpack everything and find out where it should go in his new apartment.

 

He had been unpacking for the better part of two hours when he heard a knock at his door. He found that odd because everyone that had helped him move was now either at work or running errands. Standing from the floor, Cale went to the door and looked through the peephole. He blinked as he opened the door.

 

Standing there was a guy that looked to be early to mid-twenties. That wasn’t what surprised Cale. What surprised Cale was the pie the man was holding.

 

“I thought that only happened in television and movies,” Cale said, leaning against his doorframe.

 

The guy smiled awkwardly. “I like baking things for new people in the building. It gives me something to do when I’m not playing hockey.”

 

Cale took the pie and smiled. 

 

“Hockey? I suppose the next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you play for the Avalanche.” 

 

Cale placed the pie on the foyer table and looked at the guy intently.

 

The guy’s face turned a soft shade of pink as he pulled out his phone. He tapped on it a couple of times before he turned it to face Cale. Cale looked at what the guy wanted him to see and then looked up at the guy then back down at the phone. Cale did that a couple of times before he felt his face heating up.

 

“I’m J.T. Compher. Colorado Avalanche left-winger,” the guy said sheepishly.

 

Cale plastered his hand over his face and mumbled a soft ‘fuck me’ before looking back at J.T. “I’m Cale Makar. I’m the new guy in the building and a kindergarten teacher at one of the public schools.”

 

J.T. smiled awkwardly.

 

“Do you need help unpacking,” he asked, motioning to the stack of boxes behind Cale.

 

Looking over his shoulder momentarily, Cale nodded when he looked back at J.T. 

 

“Yeah, that would be lovely.”

 

Stepping aside, Cale allowed J.T. to enter the apartment. Cale directed J.T. to the living room while Cale took the pie to the refrigerator. When Cale returned to the living room, he saw J.T. fiddling with a photo album.

 

Sitting on the floor beside J.T., Cale looked to see which photo album it was. Cale felt a blush rise across his cheeks when he realized it was the one with his first few years of life.

 

J.T. was idly flipping through the pages but he stopped and placed his finger on a picture that piqued his interest.

 

“Are you wearing a Forsberg jersey in that picture,” J.T. asked, circling his finger around the barely visible number on the sleeve.

 

“Probably,” Cale replied, smiling. “He was my mom’s favourite player.”

 

“Does her son have a favourite player,” J.T. asked as he continued to flip through the photo album.

 

“Probably Nikita.”

 

J.T. smiled, stopping to examine another picture. 

 

“Zadorov is a good choice. He’s a giant teddy bear.” 

 

J.T. took the picture he was examining out of the plastic sleeve and tilted it a couple of times. Cale raised an eyebrow. 

 

“That looks like the Pepsi Center in the background of this picture. Have you been to a game before?”

 

Cale nodded and dug around in the box beside him. When he pulled out the puck he had been looking for, he smiled.

 

“When I was three,” Cale said, handing J.T. the puck. “Sakic tossed a puck over the glass for me during the warmup of one of the Stanley Cup Final games.”

 

J.T. fiddled with the puck in his hand, examining it carefully. 

 

“There’s a signature on it,” he said, pointing at the white scrawl across the back of the puck.

 

Nodding again, Cale took the puck back and smiled. 

 

“Sakic was doing an autograph signing at the mall shortly after the team won the Stanley Cup. My mom brought the puck and had it signed for me.”

 

J.T. smiled and put the picture back into its plastic sleeve. 

 

“You should come to a game; my treat.”

 

Cale felt his face heat up and his stomach swoop. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked at J.T.

 

“Do you invite all of your new neighbours to a game on your dime,” Cale asked sheepishly.

 

J.T. closed the photo album. He gripped it in his lap and smirked at Cale.

 

“Only the cute ones.”