Work Text:
It's the downtime, before the season really kicks into gear, when the three of them actually get to live in their apartment. Aether and Dew've lived together before, when they were both in the minors. But Swiss's lease was up, and now that Aether's been brought into the fold of their relationship, the three of them decided it would be easier if they all moved in together. No contracts ending soon, no plans of retirement, so it was easily the logical decision.
And besides, Aether loves how domestic things have gotten now that all four of them live under the same roof.
"Shit," Swiss hisses from the kitchen. "Spitfire, when you're done, could you put tinfoil on the grocery list? Whoever used it last left like, six inches left. Not a whole lot."
"Six inches? You’re saying that six inches isn’t a whole lot?" Dew snickers, but Aether hears his chair scrape against the laminate as he gets up to do it anyways.
Lady hops up into his lap, and Aether sets his laptop down onto the coffee table to scratch under her chin. She purrs, snuggling up against him. Aether takes a deep breath, watching the rain streak down the windows, the smell of Swiss's cooking filling their entire apartment. Baked ziti with tomato sauce, spinach salad with dressing he’d made with the fancy flavored balsamic they’d gotten at the public market a few weeks prior, garlic bread already in the oven.
Aether’s mouth waters just thinking about Swiss’s cooking, but he turns his attention back to his laptop. There’s a seating chart for a baseball stadium shining at him, a few seats selected. His wallet sits in his pocket, a weight he’s all too aware of, but he makes no move to pull it out yet.
He opens his mouth to ask, but Swiss calls out first. “Pasta’s out of the oven, Aeth, come eat with us!”
Aether smiles, saving the page and closing his laptop. Lady protests with a meow as Aether coaxes her off of his lap so he can go join his partners for dinner.
"I've got a question for the two of you," Aether says, once plates have been cleared and he starts cleaning up the dinner mess.
"Yeah, Cap?" Swiss says, sticking his head back into the kitchen, fingers curled around the doorframe. Dew leans back against the kitchen counter, waiting to help dry the dishes.
"The Winter Classic is home ice for the Holy Hitters this year, and that’s within a reasonable travel distance for a day trip," he says, eyes firmly on the backsplash above their sink. "I would like to go. Is there any interest for either of you?"
"How come?" Dew asks. "We got lucky with the schedule this year, we don't have any hockey that week. Why'd you want to go watch more?"
Aether turns, handing the clean plate to Dew, and the domesticity of it all makes Aether's head spin. "They’re up against the Popestars, Dew."
He watches Swiss perk up at the mention of the Popestars, putting the pieces together, and Dew hums in understanding. "I see."
"I'd like to see my siblings play," Aether says, reaching to grab the next dish, hot water turning his hands ruddy.
"So'd I," Swiss says, grinning easily, easing the almost sour mood that’s just beginning to creep in. "It's been a minute since I've seen my old teammates. And a minute since I've been out of the state for a reason that wasn't for work. Being a tourist for a day or two sounds fun.”
"Dew?" Aether asks.
He nods, setting aside another dry plate. "I'll go. You want to take the train?
"Easier than dealing with the traffic,” Swiss shrugs. “And it’s what, twenty bucks one way?”
Aether nods. “Something like that. And it’s an hour. We’d go down with a change of clothes, check in at a hotel, go to the game, spend the night, and come home in the morning. I could see if my siblings would be able to find time to have dinner after the game.”
Swiss grins, bright and genuine. “That sounds great,” Swiss says. He raps his fingers in a pattern on the doorframe, his nails just long enough to make a clicking sound against the wood.
“I’ll get tickets,” Aether offers, even as he sees Dew dry his hands on the towel and reach for his pocket. “No, Dew, let me.”
Dew gives him a look, and Aether’s known him long enough for it to read exactly the same as if he’d spoken out loud. “I know you want to chip in, but I want to do something nice for us.”
Dew’s almost stern look melts away, and he leans in for a moment to rest his temple against Aether’s shoulder. “Alright, fine. Though, just be aware that I will be finding a way to get you back for a whole trip.”
Swiss snorts, still leaning into the kitchen. “Aw, look at you, Dewy, all soft for Aeth.”
Once, maybe a few years ago, that kind of comment would have sent Dew into a rage that may have gotten him sent to the box. But as it stands now, Dew just turns and flashes Swiss his own smile, even as he flips him off before going back to drying dishes.
The season changes, the last of the autumn leaves swept away just before the first snowfall. The windows frost and fog up, and the world outside gets colder as New Year’s fast approaches.
The three of them are busy, the season kicking into full gear as the days turn to weeks, traveling around the country with their team. Before they know it, Copia bids them and the team a brief farewell for the holidays, and their break has started.
It’s their first New Year’s Eve together as the three of them, and Aether flips through the channels to find one of the many broadcasts from Times Square. It’s getting late into the evening, and even as he hears Swiss and Dew rummaging around in the kitchen, he can’t think about anything but tomorrow.
He and his siblings were never incredibly close. When you’re six years older than your sister and sibling, and all three of you were constantly busy at different rinks in different age groups and different teams, it’s just how it happens.
He still loves them more than anything, though. Aether’s incredibly proud of them, making it into the big leagues in his footsteps. He can’t wait to see them play.
His phone weighs heavy in his pocket, and he wonders if he should text Aeon or Aurora, let them know. Swiss had thought it would be a great idea to surprise them after the game, and he’d gone along with it. He worries he’s made the wrong choice.
Dew sets a plate of raspberry cheddar spread on the coffee table, arranging the various snacks and dips so there’s a place to put it. The motion snaps Aether out of his nervous spiral, and he laughs as Lady perks up when Dew rustles the plastic sleeve of crackers, tearing it open.
Aether takes the cracker Dew offers him, scooping some spread from the plate and popping it in his mouth. He hums softly. “Should talk one of you into making this more often,” he teases.
Swiss makes his way into the living room, barking a short, bright laugh. “It’s real easy to make, I’m sure even you couldn’t fuck it up,” he teases, nudging his shoulder as he sits on Aether’s other side. Swiss passes him a rocks glass filled with amber liquid and ice, the scent of brandy and orange strong but not unpleasant.
He passes a similar glass to Dew, minus the maraschino cherry and orange peel. Dew salutes him gratefully as he takes it. Swiss grabs his own plain glass from the end table, taking a sip as he slings an arm around Aether’s shoulders.
“We should go to bed early. Train leaves at one, and I know for a fact we’re going to sleep til eleven,” Dew hums, even as he makes no move to get up from the couch. He takes a sip of his drink before following Swiss’s lead and setting it down on the coffee table. Aether flashes him a sly smile.
“Aw, but Dew, don’t you want your New Year’s kiss?” he teases, snatching another cracker from the coffee table. “There’s only fifteen minutes left, and then we can go to bed. Alright, love?”
Dew sighs, glancing to the tv, Times Square lit up neon. “Fine, but you know I’m going to have to drag the two of you out of bed in the morning, right?”
Aether laughs kindly as he pops the cracker and dip in his mouth. “I promise I’ll try to get out of bed on time.”
Dew rolls his eyes, nudging his shoulder against Aether’s as he leans down to run his spindly fingers through Lady’s fur. She mrrps, arching into his touch. “Yeah, how many times have you said that before in our lives?”
Aether reaches over, wrapping an arm around Dew’s shoulders and pulling him into his side. Despite the slight argument, Dew goes easily. “Yeah, because I know you’ll always get us up earlier than we need.”
“Someone likes to hit the snooze button, and I know for a fact it’s not Lady,” Dew scowls playfully. Aether laughs, watching out of the corner of his eye at the countdown to midnight in the bottom corner of the screen. It ticks ever closer, and this time last year, Aether was spending the night with just himself and Lady, and while she’s always made for fine company, Aether can’t help but notice just how much warmer his life is now.
Swiss pops a few grapes in his mouth, watching the three of them. “I’m glad things have gone the way they did,” he says quietly once he swallows. Aether turns to look at him, the warm light behind his big, brown eyes. “I like this.”
He makes no move to elaborate, but Aether and Dew don’t press. They know exactly what he means.
The ball starts its descent, and Dew makes kissy noises at Lady until she hops up onto his lap. Aether huffs a laugh as Swiss pulls him closer, watching Dew pet through her long fur as the second hand counts down to midnight.
When the clock ticks over, confetti and cheering playing over the speakers, Swiss pulls him into a kiss. He grins into it as he gets a glance at Dew pressing a soft kiss to the top of Lady’s head. “Happy New Year,” Swiss breathes, pressing his forehead to Aether’s.
“Happy New Year,” Aether says, grinning so hard his cheeks dimple.
Swiss stands, shuffles between Aether and the coffee table, before standing in front of Dew and coaxing him to his feet. Lady mrrps as Dew picks her up properly.
Aether feels his heart swell, warm and full, as he watches his partners kiss over his cat. He’s quick to his feet after them, is ready when Dew breaks from Swiss’s big hand on his bicep to go to him.
Dew doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. He leans in and Aether is quick to follow, planting a warm kiss to his mouth, big hand coming up to cup the back of his head. It tastes of brandy and raspberry and Aether knows that everything he’s worked for pales to this.
They toast with their drinks, downing the last of them, ice clinking against glass. The three of them sway together in that little bubble of domestic bliss, Lady purring up a storm between them as Auld Lang Sayne plays. Aether wants to live in this moment for the rest of his life.
But eventually it breaks, not harshly like a bubble or balloon, but one by one they break away to put the leftovers in the fridge, triple check tickets and reservations, get ready for bed.
Dew sets an alarm on his phone as Aether lays down on his side of the bed, setting his glasses on the nightstand and patting his chest as he invites Lady up. Dew huffs a soft laugh as he curls up on his side just to Aether’s right, a warm body pressed against him. Swiss stretches, yawning hard as something in his back pops, and he groans with relief as he crawls into bed behind Dew, sandwiching him in.
“Long day in the morning,” Dew yawns. He hitches a skinny thigh over Aether’s in an attempt to get closer. “Get some sleep.”
It’s said in a tone similar to I love you.
Aether huffs in agreement, hears Swiss’s low, content rumble. He snakes an arm under to pillow Dew and Swiss’s heads, his other hand idly petting Lady, who’s absentmindedly kneading at his chest as she gets comfortable. And with all three of his favorite people in his arms, Aether shuts his eyes and lets himself fall asleep.
It doesn’t feel like much later when Dew's alarm goes off, He sits up between them with a groan. Swiss grumbles, tightening his arm around his waist and trying to pull him back down. Dew laughs softly under his breath, glancing at his partners on either side of him. Aether's still snoring, Lady curled up on his chest with her tail tucked over her nose.
He reaches over Swiss's body to shut off the alarm on his phone and flick on the lamp on the nightstand. Aether and Swiss both grumble, Swiss going so far as to pull a pillow over his face to block out the light like a boy who doesn't want to get up for school.
"Gentlemen," Dew laughs softly, smoothing a hand over Aether's upper arm. "We've got a train to catch, come on, rise and shine."
"Can't, gotta cat on me," Aether grumbles, eyes still shut. Dew scoffs before clicking his tongue. Lady mews, amber eyes opening and pupils dilating to slits.
"Solvable problem, Aeth," Dew chides, climbing over Swiss's body to hop out of bed. He opens the curtains, drawing more disgruntled noises from his partners. "I wasn't the one who booked the early train. Come on, baby girl, let's get breakfast." Ever tempted by the promise of food, Lady gets to her feet, stretching and yawning to bare her sharp little teeth. She follows after Dew off of Aether, meowing and pressing her head against his hand. "See, problem solved. Up and at 'em. You promised.”
"Puck drop's not til four, we can rebook," Swiss says, muffled by the pillow, hands pulling it so tight over his face Dew wonders how he can breathe.
"Yeah, but we need to stop and check in at the hotel first," Dew reminds him, snatching the pillow just to laugh at the way Swiss scowls. "And you, sir, need to finish packing."
Aether grumbles, but he pulls back the covers and gets out of the warm bed. He gets to see his siblings today. The thought wakes him up, even as Swiss stays stubbornly in bed with a mumbled “five more minutes.”
He showers so quickly the water doesn’t have time to properly warm up. He brushes his teeth before making sure the automatic timer on Lady’s food bowl is set correctly, that her water bowl is full and the litter box is clean.
She’ll meow at the door when they come home tomorrow afternoon, but she’ll be just fine. She’s survived longer trips away, long streaks of away games, and Aether reckons she deserves the run of the place on her own as a treat.
Once Swiss is packed, finished throwing a change of clothes and a few toiletries in a backpack, he steps out of their bedroom with a folded brown and gold jersey in his hands. “Dew?” he says, and there’s something that almost sounds like caution in his voice.
Dew looks up from his phone where he’s sitting on the couch, the train tickets on the screen. He’s got his jacket on already, hair tied up in a bun. His hat and gloves sit on the end table yet. There’s the faintest upward twitch of his brow as he takes Swiss in. “Yeah? You ready? Aeth’s taking care of our daughter, and then we should be good to go.”
“Would you like my old jersey?” Swiss says all in one breath, holding out the folded bundle. “I mean, to wear. Today. It is a Popestars jersey. I feel some sort of weird about wearing it myself. Thought you might like to.”
Dew lights up, eyes crinkling as he smiles up at him. “I’d love to,” he says, reaching out to accept it. He unfolds it, the big gold lettering proudly displaying Truppe and the number 42. He puts it on over his jacket. It musses up his hair a little, a few loose strands framing his face, but he’s beaming.
“Thank you,” Dew whispers, sincere as he rubs his thumb over the worn hem of the sleeve. He wonders if this one’s seen gameplay. Wonders if the neckline might be a little stretched out from someone grabbing it during a fight. But he shakes his head minutely. That doesn’t matter, now that Swiss is standing in front of him in the apartment they share with their partner and his cat.
“Don’t mention it,” Swiss says, rubbing the back of his neck. But he’s smiling too.
Aether’s quick to notice what Dew’s wearing when he brings his own backpack out into the living room. “Shit, I forgot, that’s a great idea,” he says, spinning on his heels to dart back into their bedroom, leaving Swiss and Dew to share confused glances with each other.
It’s not much longer before he comes back with two more jerseys, both that same warm brown and gold as Swiss’s old one. “I bought my siblings’ jerseys when they got called up to the big leagues,” he explains. “We can all wear one, I mean, you already have Swiss’s, Dew.”
Dew nods, tucking his phone in his pocket. Aether takes a quick glance at the back of each jersey, handing the one that says R. Kärnan on the back, number 23, to Swiss. “Wait, do you have a preference whose you wear?” Aether asks, a little flustered.
Swiss grins, taking the jersey that had been offered. “Hers is perfectly fine by me,” he says, shrugging it on over his jacket. Aether follows suit, pulling on his own jersey, A. Kärnan lettered across his shoulderblades.
“Alright,” Dew says, patting his thighs before he stands, grabbing his hat and pulling on his gloves. “We ready to go?”
Swiss nods, swinging his backpack on over his shoulder. He makes a kissy noise at Lady, who meows as she hops up on the ottoman. Dew reaches down to pet her, and she arches up to press into his touch.
“Farewell, my favorite stepdaughter,” Swiss says, eyes glinting as Dew swats lightly at his bicep.
“We’ll be back in the morning,” Aether promises her, giving her a solid pet on the top of her head before he turns for the door. All three of them file out of the apartment, the excitement starting to build as they head to the train station.
It’s no hassle getting on the train, and before they know it, they’re off, tickets scanned in. They walk down the aisle, looking for the seats they’ll spend the next hour and a half in. The train rumbles as it speeds down the track, snow covered fields passing by out the windows.
The train car they’d chosen is almost empty, and the three of them are able to snag an aisle to themselves. Aether thinks he sees a few women at the front of the car wearing Holy Hitter jerseys and smiles to himself.
Swiss puts earbuds in, and Dew pulls up a horror novel he’s been reading. Aether watches out the window, fingers worrying at the bottom hem of his sibling’s jersey. Dew nudges him, reaching over to take his hand, phone in his other. Aether takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders drop.
With all of the traveling they have to do for work, an hour and a half train ride is nothing. Before they know it, they’re walking from the much grander train station to their hotel. The Holy Hitters play in a much bigger city than the Ghouls do, and despite the rivalry between their teams, Aether has to admit he does like the change of pace from his own. The air is brisk, though it’s manageable while they’re on their feet and moving. Dew does stay pretty close to Aether’s side, joking about blocking the wind.
Swiss checks in at the hotel, flashing a bright, friendly smile to the woman working the reception desk, and they barely have enough time to throw their bags onto the king bed before they’re moving again.
Even though puck drop for the Winter Classic is at four, they’d like to get to their seats before the baseball stadium it’s being held in is too packed to move through. So they’re off.
There’s a lot of people moving in the same direction as them, and despite the general movement of people in a big city like this, a lot of them are wearing the red, black and white jerseys of the Holy Hitters.
There are fewer wearing Popestar ones, though Aether does have to take a double take at one point as he sees his own last name on a stranger’s back. It’s a sensation he’s never been able to get used to, despite having been playing professionally for so long. He wonders if any of them are going to get recognized. It’s happened before, and he wouldn’t be surprised. Selfishly, he hopes they don’t.
He doesn’t have much more time before the baseball stadium comes into view. It’s a grand, old brick building, framed in green painted steel. It’s nestled right into the city, and almost feels cozy in a sense. People are lining up to get in, and Aether makes sure he has their tickets pulled up and ready to go.
Thankfully, the line is moving rather quickly, and before they know it, the three of them are out of the cold for the moment inside of the building. The corridors inside the baseball stadium are tight and narrow, wedged into the city the way it is. Dew lets go of Aether's hand to slip in front of him as to not take up too much room. It's blessedly warm in here, hundreds of bodies crammed together and sheltered from the bitter chill outside.
Dew looks over his shoulder to peer at Aether. "Shit, did we lose Swiss?"
Aether glances over his own shoulder. In the sea of people in the current pushing them along, Swiss isn't there behind him. "Think we did," Aether says, eyes glancing around like he might find the Popestar jersey he'd handed him a few hours ago.
A bolt of worry shoots down Aether's spine, but he and Dew keep moving, not blocking the flow of traffic. Dew grabs the sleeve of Aether's own jersey, moving with the crowd at an angle until they're pressed up against the brickwork. He cocks his head, a strand of gold hair slipping out of his hat and framing his flushed face. "He's probably alright, Aeth," he says. Dew knows him, sees straight through the thin facade he's managed to throw over his worry. "Take a breath for me."
Aether nods and obeys, he's never been able to deny Dew anything. Dew pulls out his phone. There's a notification on the screen as it lights up, but Aether can't read it upside down like this. Dew's expression is visibly written over with relief as he reads it.
"He says he'll meet us at our seats," Dew tells Aether. His hand still hasn't left Aether's sleeve, and he smiles up at him, eyes searching.
Aether's shoulders drop, and he realizes belatedly that they'd tensed up to his ears.
Dew laughs, not unkindly, eyes crinkling around the edges. "Not the end of the world, okay? Probably got caught up with someone who recognized him or something.”
He huffs a laugh through his nose. "I'll buy the poor man a drink tonight. And ones for us too, lord knows his head needs to get any bigger."
Dew laughs brightly, the sound just barely audible over the din of the crowd. Aether savors it ll the same.
"You still need a sec?" Dew asks, spindly fingers migrating from his sleeve to wrap around his wrist. His thumb smooths over his pulse.
Aether takes a breath, inhaling the scent of stadium concessions, the cart selling paper cones of roasted, candied pecans and cashews and almonds. "I'm good, Dew."
Dew gives him a crooked smile, leaning in to gently nudge his shoulder. "Come on then," he says. "You ready to go back into the cold?"
Aether nods and lets Dew lead him back into the fray of people maneuvering the narrow hallway. He lets Dew keep tabs on the section numbers, hung overhead in the girders in green and white lettering.
It doesn't take too much longer before Dew's nodding to himself and pulls to the side of the flow of people. He makes a pleased sort of hum as he finds the section number on their tickets. The two of them duck into the tunnel leading out into the stadium proper, down a few steps and back up a few more. Even before they step out into the open air, the winter chill comes back with full, nipping force now that they've left the crowd.
Dew shivers visibly, and Aether can't help but laugh playfully. "Aw, Dewey, can't handle the cold?" He teases, coming up to walk by Dew's side. "When it's what we do for a living?"
Dew rolls his eyes, breath floating on the air like cigarette smoke. "Hockey's one thing, windchill's another. At least out there we're moving and generating heat."
Aether smiles brightly. The air makes his cheeks and nose flush and rosy. They find their seats quickly. The view's not terrible. He knew they'd be watching most of the game from the big screen anyways. If they were here for baseball, their seats are ones where they'd have to be worried about foul balls.
But as it stands, the sky is a soft grey, a flake or two of snow floating down from the heavens. Cold, but not unbearably so, despite Dew's complaints. Aether takes a deep breath, lets the air sting slightly on the way down as they shuffle through the rows of green, molded plastic seats. Dew's mumbling seat numbers as he walks, counting up to their assigned seats.
"Here's us," he says, pushing the seat down and sitting down. He visibly winces at the cold. Aether doesn't comment. He stays standing for a moment, taking in the view for a moment.
It's a straight shot down the ice. The goals aren't out yet, two zambonis polishing an already flawless and reflective rink, but when the puck's dropped, the Holy Hitters' goalie will be right in front of them for two out of the three periods.
When Aether had bought tickets, Swiss had asked why he'd chosen Holy Hitter seats. Asked why not seats where the Popestars goal would be for the majority of the game. He'd just smiled, flashing his gold tooth. "You've gotta have faith," he'd said. "Besides, Popestars are third in the division, and the Hitters are fifth."
He'd laughed, something bright and gleaming in his dark eyes. "And you know. We love to see the Hitters get what's coming for 'em."
The seats are starting to fill, people slowly starting to fill the stadium. Aether can’t help but watch them start to file into their section, bundled up with scarves and coats and jackets, rubbing their hands together for warmth as they step back out into the January air. Families herding kids, wide eyed and excited, couples, groups of friends. All of them starting a brand new year the same way, together.
Aether sits down, lets Dew lean into him as they people watch. Much to his surprise, no one seems to recognize them, or if they do, they don’t mention it. Dew shivers, rubs his hands together. “I’ll buy drinks tonight if Mist gets first goal.”
He snorts, turning to look at his partner. “I bet it’s Aurora.”
Dew raises an eyebrow. “Biased, much?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he agrees easily. Dew opens his mouth to keep bickering, but he sees something over Aether’s shoulder given the way his expression morphs into something fond.
Aether turns, his own expression melting away into a smile as he sees who’s coming out of the tunnel into the seating. Swiss smiles brightly back when he sees the two of them, scarf pulled tight around his neck. He’s got a cardboard drink carrier in one hand, what looks like three disposable coffee cups inside, and a paper cone in the other hand.
He shuffles down the aisle, apologizing as he scoots past a pair of young women who are in the row with them. “Hey, boys,” he says, gesturing with the hand holding the cone. Now that Swiss’s closer, Aether can smell the same roasted nuts from the concourse. “Thought you might like some hot chocolate. And the nuts smelled good.” He chuckles, a little dirty minded, but he’s right. They do smell good, warm and sugary.
Aether’s heart aches in the best way, staring at his partner. He wonders, briefly, how he ever got so lucky to have the two of them to himself. “Yes- I mean, thank you, Swiss,” he says, reaching out to take the drink tray from him so he can get situated.
He passes one to Dew, who beams at Swiss in thanks before taking a sip, wincing at just how hot It is. Aether takes his own and hands Swiss the last one, setting the drink tray between his feet to take to the garbage later.
Swiss groans dramatically as he opens the paper cone with the nuts, a mix of cashews and pecans, pouring some into his palm and passing it down to each of them. “My mother used to get these when we went to minor league games as a kid,” Swiss says, eyes locked onto the rink as the players start to come out for warm ups.
Aether follows his gaze, torn between following two different players. Even from this distance, he can pick his younger siblings out of a lineup without any issues. Aurora’s by far the shortest player on the ice between both teams, and Aeon’s never very far from her, lanky frame somewhat obscured by their gear. Aether, overcome by a sudden giddiness, grins at the sight of them, and Dew shoves at his arm playfully.
He turns to face him, the high planes of his cheeks and the tip of his crooked nose red in the cold. “This is worth having hockey on our week off,” Dew says, taking a long draw from his hot chocolate.
“Game hasn’t even started,” Aether says, but there’s absolutely no hiding his smile. Dew leans in, glancing around before resting his temple on Aether’s shoulder just for a moment. Hidden by the seats in front of them and behind them, Aether reaches over and squeezes Dew’s hand.
Outdoor games like this are a bit of a novelty, even for them. Aether and Dew’ve only done the Winter Classic once, a few years prior, and this is the Popestars’ first run in the New Year’s game, so Swiss hasn’t played. Out of the corner of his eye, when Aether can look away from his siblings on the far side of the ice, he sees Swiss watching intently.
Even with the grey, cloudy sky, many of the players on both teams have stripes of black grease paint under their eyes, just in case the sun does decide to peek through. It prevents the glare of light off of the rink from being too blinding, but Aether and Dew both know how difficult it is to get off afterwards.
It’s rare they have this point of view. The chatter of spectators is easy to tune out when there’s a thick layer of plexiglass between you and them, but today, they are the spectators. Aether takes a deep breath and tries to enjoy the novelty.
“Aether bets that Aurora gets the first goal,” Dew comments, crunching through the sugar coating one of the pecans. “I say it’s Mist’s.”
Swiss hums, considering, tilting his head as he watches the players gather at the bench, the starting lineups skating out to center. Aurora and Aeon are first line. Right and left wing forwards, the twins a pair even out on the ice. “I say Aeon. What does winner get?”
“Dew offered to buy drinks if he won, and I accepted,” Aether says.
“I’m game,” Swiss laughs, eyes glancing between the center circle and the large broadcast screens put up around the stadium. “I mean, you already got the tickets.”
The puck drops at four pm sharp, and the game is vicious. Despite it being different from every other regular season game, it still counts for standings. The Holy Hitters are desperate from the get go, one of the lower ranked teams in the division and greedy for points.
This puts the Popestars on defense on the far side of the ice. That is, until the Hitter forwards get a little too sloppy in their desperation, letting a pass get intercepted, and the throng of players barrel down the ice. The commentators runt he play by play over the loudspeakers, another thing Aether realized he’d learned to tune out.
He watches, enraptured on the edge of his seat, as the play comes down over by them. Mist, the Popestar’s center, takes a pass from Aurora and snaps it at the goaltender.
All three of them groan, the majority of the rest of the crowd cheering when it bounces off of the goalie’s pads, back into play.
But Aeon’s right there to intercept, hooking it around behind the goalie until it finds the back of the net. The klaxons go off, and the scattered Popestar fans all cheer, much to the disdain of the hometeam fans.
Aether crows, all three of them cheering as the Popestars crowd around Aeon, celebrating the first goal. They skate back up to center ice for the next puck drop, and Aether turns to playfully shake Swiss by the upper arm, Dew leaning past him to glare teasingly.
“Guess who’s buying us drinks?” Dew teases, and Swiss just laughs, eyes crinkled around the corners.
“Sure am!” he laughs, the scoreboard flipping to 0-1 as they sit back down. “Rory and Aeon too, if they’re so obliged.”
The Popestars seem to just rack up points with ease as the game progresses, finding weak spots in the Holy Hitters’ formations, deftly putting the puck in the net one, two, three more times just in the first. This, of course, pisses the other team off, and they start playing how they always do: dirty.
Swiss and Aether both yell as one of the defenseman, a man almost twice her size, hip checks Aurora into the boards. She’s alright, back on her feet in moments, but all three of them remember why exactly the Hitters are their least favorite in their division.
They slip back into the stadium foyer during intermission, taking a chance to warm up some before going back out into the cold.
The second and third periods go similarly. Most of the play is down in the Holy Hitters’ ice, though they must have had a stern talking-to in the locker room, because their defense is much tighter.
They even manage to slip two goals in during the second and third, but they’re nowhere near catching up to the Popestars. Especially not when Aurora and Mist each get one for themselves.
The game ends six to two, and Dew laughs as he stands, the stadium seats slowly starting to empty and disperse out into the street. “Those fuckers have never won a Winter Classic. Cannot wait for it to be our turn to beat their asses.”
“Who knows,” Swiss says, shivering a little as he stretches. “Maybe it’ll be our turn next New Year’s.”
“We’ve got a whole year to worry about it,” Aether says as the three of them step out onto the street. The sun has long set past the skyscrapers in the near distance, and the place is lit with signs and streetlights. There’s a whisper of snow, nothing that’s going to stick or make travel difficult yet. The three of them cross the street, moving with the flow of people, but not going too far yet. “For now, let me text my siblings.”
Aether takes off his gloves, swiping through his phone until he finds the group chat he has with his siblings. The last texts were passing around a “Happy Holidays,” but Aether ignores them to start typing. “Come have dinner tonight?”
The text bubble pops up, and Aether’s breath catches when they start typing in response.
“We don’t really have time to come up by you tonight, sorry,” Aurora texts, and Aeon’s takes a moment to come through.
“I’m sure next time Popestars play the Ghouls we could?” Aeon offers.
Aether laughs, opening his phone’s camera to take a picture of the marquee on the front of the stadium. It’s proudly displaying Winter Classic: Popestars v Holy Hitters in white text on one line, and Final Score 6-2 below it.
“Don’t worry about that,” he captions it. “We came to you.”
As an afterthought, he sends: “No problem if that still doesn’t work.”
The three of them find a quiet corner across the street, Swiss and Dew peering curiously at Aether’s phone screen as they wait for a response.
Aurora spams a surprised face emoji, and Swiss laughs as the next texts come in, asking where they can meet him. He sends them where the three of them are, tells his siblings they don’t have to rush.
It’s ten minutes of people watching with their hands stuffed in their pockets before two figures round the corner, coming out a side door from the stadium. One’s much shorter than the other, bundled up in winter jackets and hats. Aether lights up as he sees strands of bubblegum pink hair peeking out from one of their hats, and he steps forward.
“Aeth!” Aurora says brightly, rushing up to her older brother. He pulls her into a tight hug, grabbing Aeon’s wrist and gently pulling them in too.
“Hey, guys,” he grins, ruffling Aeon’s hair. It’s still damp from a rushed shower. There’s smudges of eye black still under their eyes, but it could almost pass for smudged eyeliner. “You two did great.”
“You could have told us you were coming, you ass,” Aeon says, but they’re grinning too, even though they shove at his shoulder. Aether holds his siblings at arms length, just to get a good look at them, but they notice something over his shoulders.
“’Course you didn’t come alone.” Aurora says, her green eyes lighting up even more as she laughs.
Aeon grins brighter too, even as they look a little bit awestruck at the sight of Dew; he’d been one of the people they’d looked up to the most when they’d started playing professionally. “Hey, Swiss,” she calls, slipping out of Aether’s arms to lunge at her former teammate.
“Hey, princess,” Swiss teases as she nearly tackles him, despite him having a whole foot on her. He stumbles on the backstep, but catches his balance, hugging her just as tight as Aether had. He presses a quick kiss to her temple before he sets her down. She doesn’t go far, between her former teammate and her siblings.
Dew’s beaming as he watches the little reunion, as Swiss playfully yanks off Aeon’s beanie to ruffle their damp, black and white hair, much to their faux protest.
“Thank you for coming to see us,” Aeon says, glancing between all three of them. Their cheeks are starting to flush in the cold. “Let us know next time, we would have shown off for you.”
Aurora scoffs, and Dew cackles. “What do you mean, six to two isn’t showing off?” he laughs, and Aeon cracks a small smile.
“Swiss bet on you getting first goal,” Aether leans in to whisper conspiratorially in his sibling’s ear. “Drinks are on him tonight.”
“Aw, I knew you had faith in me,” they beam smugly up at him, and he shrugs, smiling easily.
“Your brother already bet on Rory, so you were fair game.”
“Hey!” they protest, and the whole group bursts into laughter. Aether’s not sure the last time he was exactly this happy.
“Alright, enough standing about in the cold,” he says, gathering up his siblings and his partners. “Let’s go get dinner.”