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When Dan jumped off of the sports bus in Gananoque of the great North, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Hockey, of course, but this was the first time his team had ever made it to the Nationals. He had been playing hockey for years by now with this club, and this was still the first year his team had gone to nationals. He didn’t even know they included Canadian teams in their title games. But, nonetheless, he had found himself filling out forms for his passport (apparently his drivers license wasn’t good enough) with his Aunt at the dinner table a few months ago. He had initially felt excitement at the prospect of leaving the country, seeing as he had never been away before, but now he felt worried. This wasn’t a fun vacation; this was an important tournament that he had to win.
The air was frigid, and his skates clunked loudly against his athletics bag. Whenever he breathed, the air cast out a thick cloud of gas. Dragging his feet, Dan observed the snowy landscape. Pine trees stretched towards the sky, and the faded sign advertising the hockey rink itself stood proudly by the side of the road. Sighing to himself, Dan picked up the pace so he wouldn’t be left behind by the rest of his team.
As he entered, Dan couldn’t help but gawk. They didn’t have anything impressive like this in Arkham. Their rink was an alright size, the ice always melting on its own. But this stadium was another beast. It was mighty, strong, and beautiful. The stadium itself was tremendous, and the rink was nothing less than incredible. The ice was smooth and thick, perfect for a hockey tournament. Leave it to Canada to go all out even in seemingly unimportant stadiums like this one. If anything, the faded and obviously uncared for sign outside made Dan think that this rink would be like his own back in Arkham. He could not have been more wrong.
Dan knew it was a stereotype that every Canadian was crazy good at hockey and very into the sport, but he couldn’t help but work himself up over that thought. This team had to be good if they were playing each other. Plus, they had home court advantage. They knew where the ice was the thinnest, where it melted first, and just how fast they could go before they began hydroplaning.
As he slid into his skates, his anxiety grew. What would he even do if they lost this game? It would be a waste of time for him. So much dedication and training lost because of Canada! It’s not like this was cheap either. The passport itself was a hassle, and bussing up here with everyone was not fun at all.
Sliding onto the ice to begin their warmup rituals and routines, Dan watched with trepidation as the Canadian team slid onto the other side of the rink. Almost every player looked 6 foot and above. Dan himself was almost 6 foot (with a few more inches to go according to his doctor), but these players were massive. It was a little shocking to see such big high schoolers.
However, Dan did a double take when he spotted one player on the team. Dan spotted a particularly small player sporting the number 85. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, and positively unprepared for this. The last name West shined proudly on the back of the other boys jersey. The guy would be dead the moment he touched the ice, Dan was sure of it. He assumed immediately that he must be a bench warmer, seeing as they had a few players like that on his team as well. Writing off the situation as just that, Dan quickly went to rejoin his team in their warmups.
A half hour before the match, Dan felt incredibly worried about this match again. The stands were slowly but surely filling up. He knew he was a good player, his spot on the team only reassured him, but it still filled him with worry to see the other team. He wasn’t sure how well he would fair against these other players. The Canadian team had some massive boys on it (minus number 85), and Dan couldn’t imagine being very successful against them. Dan was one of the taller boys on his team, too. They would throw him and his teammates around like they were some trashy rag doll.
As Dan was internally freaking out over this, he heard a voice yelling out his jersey number.
“Six! Six!” The sweet sound chanted.
Whipping around, Dan beamed at the sight of his girlfriend. She had come all this way to support him? She apparently had not been kidding when she said she would follow him anywhere.
“Meg!” Dan yelped, pouncing at the glass. He pressed a gloved hand to the glass, staring at the beautiful sight ahead of him. “You didn’t say you would be watching.” That swell of anxiety returned. Imagine if he got his ass beat in front of his girlfriend. How embarrassing would that be?
”I wanted to surprise you.” Meg smiled easily, giggling a bit. “Plus, your aunt wants me to come to dinner with you guys afterwards.” She motioned towards Dan’s aunt, who was already sitting down with a blanket around her shoulders. Of course his aunt helped to coordinate this surprise. It was a pleasant surprise, but his anxiety was making him feel sick with worry. His aunt smiled and waved from the bleachers, tugging the blanket taught around herself.
Waving awkwardly at his aunt, Dan stared up at Meg. Dinner plans already? They had just arrived in Canada today, too. “Well, I’ve gotta go, Meg.” He explained already, shoving his helmet back on. It was an easy fib. Truthfully, he wanted to stay there chatting until his coach had to come over and drag him away from her, but he was so anxious already that he couldn’t bring to imagine trying to flirt right now on top of that.
“Have fun, Danny.” Meg smiled warmly, laughing as she turned away. She wiggled her fingers at him, flashing an easygoing smile. How perfect was she?
Dan lingered by the glass for a moment before he snapped out of his sappy thoughts. He forced himself to slink back over to his teammates, slightly out of his element now. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted number 85 very graciously slipping all over the ice. He cringed and turned away, paying attention to the pep talk his coach was spewing out.
Dan watched the face off closely, his shoulders tense and knees bended. He held his wooden stick firmly between his two hands, eyes locked on the puck. He couldn’t help but glance over to the stands. Meg was watching intently, her beautiful blonde hair flowing wonderfully today. She was even wearing the sweater Dan got her for their 1 year anniversary. Dan blushed at the thought of her caring so much. How did she make it look so easy? She was always so effortlessly supportive and kind. The sight of Meg cheering him on as well only made him even more anxious and pressured. He watched as the referee dropped the dark puck onto the thick ice, and all at once movement began. He was caught off guard by it, having been too caught up in his daydreaming and gawking at Meg to notice what was going on around him.
Gananoque had the puck in an instant, and Dan was quickly being shoved and rushed past. Shit.
Sliding to get into a better position, Dan threw himself at the guy with the puck. He kept swinging his stick until he could get the puck away from the other player, immediately booking it down the rink. He checked over his shoulder, noticing a swarm of the enemy following him.
When he turned back around, he caught sight of number 85 zoned out right in front of him. With the grace of a car crash, he slammed into the other boy.
He lay winded on top of him for a second, only getting up once a nasally voice starting yammering beneath him.
“Get off of me, you oversized goon!” A shrill voice commanded. He felt a pair of gloved hands shoving and whacking at his chest, and he suddenly realized he was laying on top of the tiny player from the Canadian team.
Throwing himself back up, Dan stared down at the small boy before him as he shambled up as well. “My bad!” He sputtered before he quickly skated away. He had a puck to chase, and he couldn’t exchange pleasantries with the enemy team at the moment.
“Idiot…” 85 muttered, watching the number 6 and the last name Cain stand proudly at the back of the taller boys jersey. Dan decided to ignore that comment.
He had already lost the puck to Gananoque, and he felt a little annoyed by number 85. His coach would surely be screaming at him for his loss of the puck. Why was he even standing in the middle of rink And on top of all that, why was he so annoying? Dan couldn’t help but cringe when he looked over and saw him arguing with the goalie of all people. Not even Dans goalie, it was his own goalie! What an idiot.
Once the end of the first section finally arrived, Dan was exhausted. They were already down by two, and their coach was not happy. His muscles were sore and aching, and his helmet was starting to dig into his skull again. He ripped the headgear off, holding it in his lap.
Chugging his water bottle, Dan tried to ignore the incessant complaints from his coach. Maybe Canadians were just insane beasts when it came to hockey. It certainly felt like it. Dan could already feel a few bruises forming on his torso from getting elbowed by these Canadian players. Number 27 was especially grating on his patience right now, but he was too exhausted to get into a fight. Plus, the guy was probably 6’4 on a bad day. Dan did not want to mess with a guy who looked like he bench pressed 600 pounds daily.
If he was lucky, one of the other players here would start a fight first so he could watch by the sidelines. It would soothe his aching muscles and frayed nerves to watch a few of the more annoying Canadians get pummeled by his teammates.
Luckily for Dan, it only took another minute and a half after break had ended and the next third started before his teammate had enough and threw a punch. He watched as the pile grew larger, punches and shouts growing louder and filling with an intense amount of ire. He idly wondered if this was how the Bruins players fought during their matches. He stayed off to the side, glancing over when he felt someone link up with him. He was a little surprised when it was number 85 of all people, but he was not all too shocked by it. He couldn’t imagine this boy of all people getting into a scuffle. He would probably be sent to the hospital by a paper cut judging by how pale and thin he was. Dan half expected him to reveal he was a vampire any second now and sink his fangs into his neck for a quick snack.
Dan allowed his gloved hand to linger on the other players back, glancing over to study the —now infamous to Dan- smaller player.
He had sharp, swampy eyes and a surprisingly intimidating aura. He exuded confidence and aggression, despite being barely 5’5. His mouth was set in a frown which seemed to be perpetuated by the smile lines surrounding his plush lips. They reminded him of Meg’s lips for a second, but he quickly shoved that disturbing thought away. His uniform seemed baggy on him, like the team didn’t have any jerseys to fit him properly. He eyed the last name West closely. It seemed fitting for the smaller boy, oddly enough.
He seemed to notice Dan’s eyes lingering, and he snapped his head over like a damn barn owl and shot a startling glare. “What?” He demanded, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. His voice was so irritating, high pitched and nasally all at once. It was like nails on a chalkboard, yet Dan almost wanted to hear him continue speaking. Almost.
”Nothing.” Dan responded immediately, awkwardly patting the guys back.
85 didn’t seem to care, just huffing quietly. “If you want to make snide comments, at least say them aloud, scaredy cat.” He taunted.
”Excuse me?” Dans hand froze, almost unsure if he wanted to pull away from the other teenager.
”Are you daft? Of course you are. Stupid Americans…” He began to grumble and gripe under his breath about how all Americans were idiots. Dan nearly punched him for that, but he stopped himself just in time.
Dan wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted this guy to like him. Maybe he just found it cute how small he was. No. Cute was not a word guys used for other guys. Dan called his girlfriend cute, he called Madonna cute, and he called kittens cute. Not sweaty guys who were frankly annoying and weirdly petite.
Number 85 wasn’t cute. He was delicate. Yes, delicate and proud about it in a very annoying way.
When the brawl finally dissipated and 85 began to skate off, Dan couldn’t help but miss his contact. It had been nice to linger and not play his hockey match for once.
Sighing, Dan went back to his side of the court. This would be a long match …