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Philipp jerked awake, a sharp pain shooting through his lower body. He instinctively moved for his knee, only to remember during his reach that it wasn’t his knee that was bothering him now, that injury was well healed, but his groin which told him it wasn’t fond of these nighttime acrobatics.
Groaning loudly, Philipp flopped back into his array of pillows in an attempt to remedy the ache, but it was likely hopeless. He wasn’t the best at falling back to sleep, especially not after another round of the dream.
He closed his eyes, recalling the scenes before they faded from his mind, hoping that in some way he could see success…instead of the constant reminder of his failures.
*
Ice crunched as blades sliced across the surface, the clang of sticks as players battled for the puck, the swishing of the puck as it hit the back of the net, the goal buzzer lost to the roar of the crowd.
His arms prickled at the chillness in the air, cold but at the same time the crispness was warm and comfortable.
Philipp had had this dream before. Many, many times before.
The earliest he could recall was when he was about six, just starting to play hockey for the first time. He wasn’t a goalie back then, his family buying the least amount of gear possible before seeing if he even liked playing hockey. Like in real life, his dream was a bit shaky, as if he was experiencing through his own eyes as he stumbled around the ice, trying to stay up on his two feet. The dream continued to show Philipp getting a goal, even though he had yet to get one in real life, and Philipp was fairly sure that it was excellent motivation, for not only did he get a goal in his next game, his enthusiasm and his family’s excitement over his goal ensured his registration for the following year.
As he progressed through youth leagues, making it into the Oberliga, and then over to Canada for the OHL, the dream continued to make an appearance. It continued to change in line with his career, having switched to a goalie’s perspective after his first game in net at age eight, and increased with skill and efficiency as he did.
The night before he was drafted, Philipp had the dream again, and at the time figured it was due to the proximity of the draft, reflecting fondly on his time on the Spitfires. He had thought it odd when he spotted the letters on the back of the other players’ jerseys, which normally didn’t play any sort of role in his dream, but didn’t piece together the information until after he had been drafted to the Washington Capitals.
It sounded silly in his head, and even crazier when he stumbled over his words, asking the only person who he trusted on the matter - his Oma. He could vaguely remember her telling stories about the magic in dreams when they were growing up and thought that if anyone knew anything, that she would.
Instead of laughing at him, which is what he had expected, she motioned for him to sit next to her on the sofa, a very serious look on her face. He then sat and listened as she explained her own repeating dream, which had led her to eventually marrying his Opa. That back in olden times, there were many legends about people like her, people like Philipp, whose dreams would weave a path to their beloved.
Philipp had listened respectfully, but at the same time instantly rebelled at the thought. He had no time for a beloved, not anytime soon and definitely not during his rookie season. So Philipp pushed down his objections, thanked his Oma profusely and then focused on his hockey, ignoring any changes in the dream as time went on.
And that worked.
For a while.
Until Seattle.
As soon as the offer rolled in for the Kraken, the dream changed, and in such a drastic way that there was no way to ignore the differences.
Because now the dream ended with his hands in someone else’s, his lips on another’s before fading away. The roughness of the man’s beard against his skin lingered for days after the first instance, leaving him no chance to forget it had happened, and honestly, Philipp wasn’t sure if he wanted to forget.
Ignoring his previous reluctance to learn more about people like him, people like his Oma, Philipp dived back into the topic, tracking down every book and resource he could find on the matter. And slowly, as he traced through individual recounts and the occasional attempt at a scientific study, the pieces came together.
‘Dream Weaver’ seemed to be the most commonly used term, along with dream walker or seeker. Unlike his Oma’s experience though, it didn’t always lead to a beloved, but helped the individual succeed at what was important to them. There was skepticism of course, especially since technology to actually view someone else’s dreams was not available, but enough personal accounts that Philipp felt comfortable in coming to the conclusion that he, and his Oma, were dream weavers.
Philipp threw himself back into the team, back into getting to know the team members, and back into improving his game, both on and off the ice. He desperately wanted to find the person he was kissing in his dream, but also didn’t want the dream to make the decision for him either.
Luckily, it didn’t take him long to notice the goalie that they pulled up from AHL, Joey Daccord.
He was younger of course, a five year difference, which wasn’t uncommon with rookies. But the way he played, with grit and determination, combined with small smiles and tap to Philipp’s pads whenever they switched had Philipp falling faster than his dream.
The dream hadn’t changed for years. The last major change was when Philipp joined the Kraken, but nothing was new lately, not since he started having feelings for Joey, and not since the new season started, with him as starting goalie and Joey as his backup.
Until now, of course. Now that he was laid up, with a groin that continued to hurt with the smallest inconvenient movement, that caused him to hobble awkwardly down hallways and render him useless in the net.
Scheiße.
*
Joey pulled up the straps of his woolen bib, unable to stifle a wince when he looked at himself in the mirror. The costumes were definitely a choice, Joey thought to himself as he looked at the bright orange he was adorned in, continuing to frown as he added the cap.
He shouldn’t be complaining, no, that right should go to Philipp, who was still on the injured list with an on-going groin issue. Joey had been worried that he might not go to the game at all, but the injured goalie reassured him that he would be there, just not on the bench.
Joey absolutely loved the winter games. While some of the other players would complain about the ice quality, or the temperatures, Joey would just grin at the thought of skating a few laps around the rink, the wind in his hair. Some of his favourite memories growing up were of him and Alex, wobbling around on the rink that his dad built in the backyard.
He really appreciated the opportunity to start the game, although wished that Philipp was on the bench with him. No shade to Chris, but he wasn’t Philipp. Philipp, with his gentle voice, his big smiles, his on-going narration of the game in German that only Joey could understand, his patience when advising the younger rookie on plays. No, Chris definitely wasn’t Philipp.
Joey couldn’t exactly pinpoint when he began feeling attraction to their starting goalie, it felt like he fell for him as soon as they met. He started flirting almost right away, a lingering contact here, a pat on the back and a tap on pads there, but Philipp didn’t seem to pick up on it, or at least Joey was hoping the other goalie was oblivious, as opposed to uninterested. Maybe he could use the guise of after game celebrations to sneak a kiss, see what would happen. See if he could get the German gentleman to loosen up a bit…if he could get up the nerve.
When Joey was finally satisfied with his costume, he hustled to the team bus. He was surprised when a stuffed fish was pushed against his chest once he reached the door, by none other than Philipp.
“Thought you might want one, it makes the outfit complete, don’t you think?” Philipp teased, bumping Joey’s shoulder gently.
“Hey, how did you get out of wearing this?” Joey replied, gesturing to the costume and then to Philipp, who was still in sweats. As soon as his question was verbalized, Joey winced, swearing at himself for such an insensitive question. “Wait, sorry man, don’t answer that.”
Philipp shrugged in response. “Don’t worry, I’ll take lots of pictures so we can remember the moment,” he then added, pulling out his phone for a quick selfie of the two of them.
Joey barely had a second to remember to smile, too distracted by Philipp’s arm that had wrapped around him for the photo. Whacking Philipp gently with the fish, he motioned towards the bus. “Did you save me a spot too?” he teased, but half-hoping that Philipp would say yes.
“But of course,” Philipp said with a grin, motioning for Joey to go ahead of him, the two of them taking their normal seats at the back of the bus.
Joey had to remind himself to breathe multiple times during the ride; it was like his body was a live wire. He could feel the warmth as Philipp’s leg pressed against his, the occasional shoulder brush as the bus hit a bump in the road and he couldn’t help but lean into all the touches, unsure of whether or not he wanted Philipp to notice, but unable to stop himself from instinctively getting closer to the other man.
It was a harsh reality when they finally arrived at the venue, and Joey had to move. But when Philipp sent him off with a good luck and slightly lower pat on the back, Joey had to stop himself from floating away.
First, they would win the game. Then, he would kiss Philipp.
*
Philipp took another small sip from his beer mug, making a face at the taste of the warm beer. He had been nursing the same drink for the last hour, both a combination of being distracted while watching Joey, and because he really shouldn’t be drinking too much, not while on medication for his injury.
Joey managed to keep every puck out of the Kraken net with ease, as Philipp watched in amazement. And when the final horn blew signaling the end of the game, he watched in jealousy as Chris was the one to tap Joey’s pads, and lean in for a hug.
That was supposed to be his hug, well his kiss, or at least according to the dream. For the last week, the dream had been shifting so that he could see the other man wearing a striped hat adorned with a pom-pom, exactly like the winter toques that they had the Kraken team wearing.
But he couldn’t play out the dream, because he wasn’t even on the bench, instead stuck away in the box with the admin staff, watching his team from far, far away.
So yeah, he was grumpy. So grumpy that he barely noticed Lars sliding into the chair next to him until his mug was whisked from his hand, a proper, ice cold German beer replacing it. Raising it in thanks, Philipp quickly took a quick swig, sighing at the change in taste and temperature.
“Looks like you needed one,” Lars commented, bumping shoulders with him.
Philipp replied with a grunt, taking another long drink, as he looked around for Dunn, Lars’ other half. “Where’s your partner?”
Lars nodded towards the corner, Philipp quickly followed the direction only to find Dunn with one of those striped hats, his arm wrapped around Joey, who also still had his toque on, as he filled up the goalie’s MVP trophy cup with more beer.
“Look Grubi, you’ve got to make a move at some point before Vince makes it for you,” Lars said bluntly, taking a sip of his own beer while Philipp tried to not spit his drink out. “We’ve all seen the looks, the touches, and I think Vince is one step away from kissing your guy to force your hand.”
Philipp’s gaze shot quickly, trying to see exactly where Dunn’s hand was resting. “I’m not sure this is the right time for any moves,” he murmured, while continuing to watch Dunn very very closely.
“Philipp.”
Philipp’s gaze snapped back towards Lars, surprised at the seriousness he could hear in Lar’s voice.
“There’s never a right time,” Lars continued, setting his drink down on the table. “There’s injuries, there’s call ups, there’s contracts…it’s never the right time. I get the sense that you’ve been dreaming of this perfect moment, and I hate to break it to you, but it never exactly plays out like that.”
Philipp’s eyebrows raised at Lars’ casual reference to the dreams, and he paused, the question on the tip of his tongue about whether Lars knew about dream weavers, but pushed the instinct away. This wasn’t the time to ask as Dunn’s hand was still on Joey’s back, and Philipp wasn’t going to risk any more chances of Dunn carrying out his plan.
Philipp stood up abruptly, barely managing to catch the stool he was on from tipping over. Pushing it back into position, he quickly made his way over to Joey, having to force himself to not to just run over.
“Hey,” he blurted out, feeling awkward now that he was over there but also reassured as Dunn shot him a smirk before making his way back to where he had left Lars.
“Hey,” Joey replied back, a growing smile on his face.
The two of them stood staring at each other as the team’s raucous continued on in the background. Philipp wanted nothing more than to lean in for a kiss, but that didn’t feel quite right yet. Then he got an idea.
“Will you come with me?” Philipp asked, reaching out a hand, relief flooding his body when Joey snagged it, allowing himself to be pulled behind Philipp as they exited the bar.
*
It took a bit longer than Philipp planned, having to track down a pair of skates that would fit him. His feet didn’t quite fit in the boots right, and his legs felt a bit wobbly, but he wasn’t sure if that was from nerves, the poor-fitting skates, or the injury, so he let himself lean a touch on Joey as they made their way to the ice.
It was even colder now that the sun had gone down, but the lights from the activities surrounding the rink were enough to illuminate a path for the two goalies as the two skated slowly around, before coming to a stop by the Kraken net.
“I’ve always loved skating outside,” Philipp murmured to Joey, his arm tucked through Joey’s after a recent wobble. “But what I really like is skating with people that I care about.”
Philipp had dreamed of this exact moment, the ice, the cold, the skating, and as he turned to face Joey, with the intent to kiss him, he was pleasantly surprised when Joey made the first move instead, his lips pressing against Philipp’s. Joey’s fingers threaded through his hair as they continued to kiss, long past when they should have taken a breath, and Philipp couldn’t care less, lost in the rush.
Pausing for that breath now, Philipp cupped Joey’s face, smiling at his reddened cheeks, sure that he had a matching set of his own. Joey looked absolutely adorable with his silly toque with a pom pom on top, and all he wanted was to kiss him again, so he did.
The kiss went even longer this time, and it was Joey who broke the contact, taking his own deep breath, and then another. “I like skating with people I care about too,” he said quietly, after getting his breath back.
“Should we do a few more laps?” Philipp asked, looping his arm through Joey’s again in preparation.
“Sure. Then do you want to try sharing some hot chocolate from the cup? You probably shouldn’t be drinking too much beer,” Joey said thoughtfully, as the two of them slowly circled the ice again.
“Sounds perfect.”
(And it really was, once they got the beer taste out of the trophy.)