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If he had known that the north would remind him so much of Minnesota, he would have packed a lot heavier than he had. Then again, after almost 8 years of exclusively being based in Florida and only going home for the holidays to keep his mother company and catch up with people who didn’t have the ability or drive to leave Rochester, he supposes that this is karma coming to bite him in the ass.
Thank god for the company Amex. He cannot afford to stay here for the time he’s going to be without a rental car with in-car heating. That and survival skills from lost past Minnesotan winters.
The biting Vancouver air whipped through Matt’s hair as he stepped out of the airport car, making him shiver a little before he reached back in to get his suitcase. Six foot eight was a lot of man, even in a city accustomed to hockey giants, and he drew a few curious glances in the carpark as he straightened his Tampa Bay Lightning branded blazer.
It wasn’t like he was in Canada for personal reasons. He was here for a week-long marketing strategy summit with the Canucks, a necessary evil for people like him. He apparently delivered results and the Canucks needed someone to teach their marketing team how to do just that. He’d much rather be back in sunny Tampa, brainstorming beach-themed jerseys and sipping a gallon sized coffee, but it was a nice change of pace, so he’d said yes.
Plus, it wasn’t exactly like he was the most…marketable marketing guy, to put it bluntly.
Matt wasn’t all cold corporate and suits and ties. He wore a blazer and slacks and boots, but his neck was usually adorned with gold chains, his wrist home to a gold Rolex he’d brought for his birthday when he was 18 and rings he’d been steadily collecting over the years, similar to the span of weird tattoos hiding under business shirts and singlets.
He checked into his hotel, the kind of sleek, glass tower that mirrored the city’s modern vibe, and then, after putting away all his crap, prepared for his first meeting at Rogers Arena. He braced himself for a morning of mostly dry presentations and corporate jargon.
He definitely wasn't prepared for Alexander Gumuchian.
Alexander, or “Gummy” as everyone seemed to call him, was the Canucks’ star centreman. Five foot eleven (shorter than the usual hockey player, but that could be because Matt’s tall ass has only been around players 6 foot or higher) of pure kinetic energy, with a shock of dark brunette hair usually escaping his helmet and perpetually perched glasses that somehow managed to stay put even during slapshots.
Matt, given he only had so much knowledge of the current team roster for the Canucks, had watched playbacks of him on ESPN during his research – a whirlwind of speed and puck-handling finesse. He hadn’t expected him to be… well, here - but Matt guessed if he was still playing hockey (a dream given up in high school for other things) that he would want to represent his team as well and on the other side of it, in his professional brainspaced, no one better to market off of than the guy constantly managing to score consistently in almost all season games.
The boardroom was all polished wood and hushed tones when Matthew walked in. He was introduced to the Canucks marketing team, a blur of names and handshakes. Then came the players. Coach introduced a few key figures, including “Alex Gumuchian, or Gummy, as you know him on the ice.”
Alex stepped forward, glasses glinting under the fluorescent lights. He extended a hand, a wide, mischievous grin splitting his face. “Matthew Hauri, right? From sunny Florida! Welcome to the chilly north. Hope you brought your parka.”
Matthew shook his hand, surprised by the warmth of Alex's grip. “Pleasure to be here, Alex. Though I might need to borrow one of those Canucks jerseys – they look pretty warm.”
“Oh, they are,” Alex winked, a flash of something playful in his brown eyes. “Especially when you’re wearing mine .”
Matthew chuckled, assuming it was just standard athlete bravado. “I’ll stick to admiring them from afar for now.”
The meeting began, and Matthew tried to focus on the data projections and demographic analysis being presented. But Alex’s presence was… distracting. He sat across the table, leaning back in his chair with an almost feline grace, his gaze often flickering in Matthew’s direction. And when their eyes met, Alex would offer that same charming, slightly cheeky smile.
It started subtly. A quick, “Nice tie, Matthew. Is that… lightning bolt blue?” during a lull in the discussion. Later, while reviewing potential jersey designs, Alex leaned in close, his breath warm on Matthew’s ear as he murmured, “You know, those Tampa jerseys are pretty sharp. But I think you’d look even better in blue and green.”
Matthew found himself flushing despite himself. He was used to the corporate world, to polite professionalism, not… this. This blatant, good-humoured flirting. He was a foot, maybe a little more than a foot, taller than Alex, and felt like a lumbering giant next to the smaller, quicker man. It shouldn’t be working… but it kind of was.
Lunch was even more disarming. During the buffet line, Alex materialised beside him, carrying two plates piled high with what looked like an ungodly amount of pasta. “Hauri!” Alex exclaimed, gesturing to Matthew’s name tag. “That’s a… Swiss last name. I’m half-Swiss myself.” He leaned in, a smirk present on his lips. “You got as many holes as the cheese?”
Matthew almost choked on his water, sputtering before putting it down and clearing his throat so he didn’t look like a fool in front of like, a million people. Word travels surprisingly fast in corporate offices. “I…I would hope not.”
Alex laughed, a bright, genuine sound. “Relax, Matthew. Just messing with ya. Someone said you used to play hockey, figured you might get the joke, as you have a full set of teeth still. They look good when you smile.”
Matt’s face immediately sets aflame. “I’ll…try to remember that.”
“But seriously, Swiss cheese is good stuff.” Alex continues like he hasn’t heard or seen him withering in his chair. “I can’t have it, not anymore - perk of the trade - but I bet you can. Especially on poutine. Have you tried poutine yet?”
“Had it a couple of times back in the States.”
“Oh hell no .” Alex’s face screws up like he tasted a lemon. “Lemme get you a list of places that make actual poutine, dude. The States is a mockery machine.”
(Matt tries to maintain eye contact and fails completely when he’s handed a napkin with Alex’s writing scribbled all over it. He almost expects Alex’s number to be included and doesn’t know why he feels almost… disappointed, when it isn’t.)
The rest of the week seemingly unfolds in a similar fashion to the beginning of it. Every meeting, every break, every casual encounter was punctuated by Alex’s relentless flirting and honestly, Matt didn’t know how to feel at this point.
As a professional, the firing should bristle him and on a scale, it does - but the personal part of him, the part he’d let leech into his career stubbornly and refused to let go of, was almost preening at the attention. It’s been a while and Matt, newly bisexual as of a few years ago now, wasn’t exactly not opposed to being flirted with.
Maybe he was thinking too hard about this.
“You know, Matthew-” Alex snapped him out of his train of thought while they walked shouler to shoulder (or really, forearm to shoulder) during the tour of the Canucks’ locker room the home marketing team suggest he take, Alex volunteering to be tour guide. “-you’re like, basketball regulation height up there, but you’d look good on the ice more than behind it.”
Alex gestured at the rows of jerseys, “We’re always looking for new talent, especially since hockey’s a…full contact sport.” Matt shivers at the way Alex says the words, but pretends everything is fine as Alex continues. ”Maybe you should consider a career change back to the ice or something. Marketing’s like… fine, but imagine the roar of the crowd when you score a goal versus putting the guy’s face on the billboard who did.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow in amusement, chuckling. “I think I’m better suited to strategy and spreadsheets these days, man. Besides, I’m pretty sure my ability to skate is six feet under and rotten now. It needs some work…a hella lot of work.”
“We can totally fix that, man.” Alex grinned, his eyes sparkling with something that seemed a lot more interested than before (not that he wasn’t looking at Matt like he was the most interesting thing in the room already). “How about some private lessons when you aren’t part of the corporate agenda? Just you, me, and the rink. I’m here late most of the time anyway. Sound good?”
“Tempting, for sure-” Matt admitted, fighting to keep his voice even. “-but I think I’ll stick to watching from the stands as you guys go at it. Animal style isn’t exactly my thing.”
“ Ugh ,” Alex sighed dramatically. “Pity. You’d look great in skates. Long legs and all.” He winked, leaving Matt a speechless, blushing mess again behind him, wordlessly following as he led Matt out to the main halls of the arena and pointing at the trophy cabinets.
One evening, after a particularly gruelling brainstorming session that was mind-numbingly long and ended with one viable strategy and a heap of unusable ones, Matt found himself in the arena bar feeling guilty as he nursed a stolen beer, needing to take the edge off - when a familiar voice cut through the low hum of ambient noise from janirtial staff and the cracks of a puck being hit on the ice. “Lost, Hauri?”
Matt jumped a little, but adjusted his posture as Alex slid onto the stool beside him, shedding his usual cheerful facade for something a little softer. Instead of his usuall Canucks gear, he wore a simple white tank top under a varsity jacket and jeans, his glasses perched precariously on his nose. “You look rough. Hard session with the number dudes?”
Matt winced. “Maybe. Just needed a minute where I wasn’t being quoted numbers. Figured that your team wouldn’t mind if I took stock of the facilities. You escaped practice?”
“Practice ended like an hour ago - I think Demko and Pettersson are running some shots before they leave, knowing them.” Alex said, kicking the gym bag Matt failed to notice by his feet as he reached behind the bar and grabbed himself a protein bar. “Was on my way out to go have dinner and thought you might need company. Vancouver can be pretty lonely for a Floridian.”
“Amen to that.” Matthew took a sip of his beer, suddenly feeling less tired and more aware as he watched Alex’s fingers trace the metal foil as he opened and took a bite of the bar. “Naw, it’s not so bad. I’m originally from the Midwest, so the snow’s not so new. It’s just been…different, way different from Tampa as well, that’s for sure.”
“Different good, or different bad?” Alex asked, leaning closer, arm almost touching Matt’s as he does. Matt can smell his breath he’s that near him, the sweet smell of honey and peanuts and whatever else overwhelming him for a minute before he gets his thoughts back.
“Different good. So far, anyway. Still have a few days to reserve my judgement.” He looked directly at Alex, really looked . At the intelligence in his warm brown eyes, the easy confidence in his posture, the playful curve of his lips - okay, no, he really shouldn’t-
“I think it’s mostly due to the… local hospitality I’ve been receiving.” Okay, he was not supposed to say that. Jesus Christ.
He can feel the blush he’s been warding off reach the tips of his ears as it rises slowly and steadily, a thrumming through his skin as Alex’s grin dimmed and then widened, knowing. “Well…hospitality is our specialty in Vancouver, maybe even the whole of BC. Visitors are always treated well, in my experience anyway.” He paused, his gaze lingering on Matthew’s lips for a beat too long. “Especially tall, blonde, handsome ones.”
Matthew felt his heart rate pick up. “You are… incredibly persistent, Gumuchian. I thought it was just you being you at first, but…that’s not it, is it? What are you trying to do to me?”
“Aw, c’mon Hauri, surely you own a mirror.” Alex countered, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “That suit and tie with those big ass hands of yours and that smooth mouth you got? Dangerous combination for guys like me.”
“Yeah?” Matt found himself breathless again, for very different reasons than a few days ago.
“Yeah,” Alex’s grin becomes coy. “Almost wanted to ask if you had a private office here so I could come in for a meeting with you. Discuss some…’ strategies’ of my own.”
The air crackled between them as Matt’s mouth went dry, knowing that Alex’s tone meant something a hell of a lot more than just marketing tips on how to improve his image and….God, he shouldn’t even be indulging this, let alone actually thinking about it. He’s literally leaving Vancouver on Monday. While he’s been down for at least a hookup while he’s been in town (a guy has needs you know?), he was not expecting it to be with the centre of the hockey team he was literally shacking up with out of professional courtesy.
If the Canucks found out that their star player had slept with the visiting marketing guy, they would lose their minds. Matt might lose his job- okay, no, it’s not that dire, he wouldn’t, but there would be some seriously bad press slammed straight into his reputation like a semi truck hitting the brakes when seeing an animal crossing the road.
It was just a really bad idea all around. A really, really bad idea.
“Maybe-” Matt’s lips chose for him, mirroring Alex’s low tone, “-maybe you can discuss those strategies you have in my hotel room, Alex. I’m free, if you aren’t busy tonight.”
Now it was Alex’s turn to blush, and man, did Matt want to know if it extended down to his chest as it was just the right colour of red, rosy without being too deep and not as pink as his favourite shade. The playful spark flooded back in like ooze and Alex’s eyes sparkled.
“I am…so down for doing that. You got hardwood or carpet?”
“Play your cards right, Gumuchian-” Matt licks his lips. “-and it’ll be Egyptian cotton with my teeth in your goddamn shoulder blades that are always catching my eyes.”
Alex’s eyes widened, the brown eclipsed by the blackness of lust. “Where’s your car?”
“Outside. It’s a rental.” Matt chugs the rest of his beer as Alex picks his bag up with the speed and grace of a toddler on roller skates, the taller jingling the keys as the latter drags him out by the arm to the parking lot, Matt letting himself be pulled for once willingly.
(Turns out Alex isn’t just speedy on the ice - he’s a quick shot in bed as well, Matt hardly having to do any work before Alex is completely undone underneath him - so if he goes back to Florida with a personailzed Canucks jersey that ends up in a Instagram post when Alex posts him wearing in pantless at his desk in Florida, readding glasses on his nose and look like a DILF a year into their DL relationship, he guesses he’ll just have tro put up with that at work tomorrow.
Brand loyalty can kiss his blue and green ass.)