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Dexter would say he’s had a stressful life. Perhaps a bit more stressful than most. Actually probably a lot more stressful. Most people aren’t serial killers who had their mother murdered and dismembered in front of them. So the assertion that his life was a bit more stressful than others seemed reasonable. Especially now in his current predicament.
The fantasy hockey draft.
He was sitting at the break room. Surrounded by people he had once regarded with caution, and even care. But he had to put that care to death now. He could let his monster roam free for this snake draft. He needed it to. Be cutthroat and forever efficient. No matter the cost. Well the allowed cost. It was just fantasy hockey after all. But just because it was fantasy, doesn’t mean the ego boosts were. With Masuka on his computer, orchestrating the league with some crude name for his team, “Team Book Hockey”. It took Dexter a minute or two to register what it meant after saying it out loud. Grateful he was alone instead of having to hear the chuckles of others. Deb on his left, Angel seated near Masuka, and Doakes glaring at Dexter even now across the table. Closest to the door as he was also seated, looking at his device as the clock ticked. Everyone entranced by their draft cues as they watched the timer run down second by second. Only breaking this concentration to give anxious glances to each other.
“Nobody fucking take Crosby or I’ll seriously loose my shit.” Debra barked out. Making special notice to glare at Masuka.
“Hey. He’s in my projected draft pick and his projections are looking better than a hooker's tits.” Masuka chuckled. Clicking away on something as he ducked his head to continue selecting players.
“Masuka If you want to see the light of day. Sydney Crosby will be on my fucking fantasy team.” Debra spoke, tight lipped now and Dexter only huffed. Her threat had no weight to it, not compared to the death threats Dexter frequently delivered on. “Or else I’m taking Voracek.” She smirked now. Leaning back into her chair as she saw Masuka’s worried face peak from the top of his computer.
“You wouldn’t…” He spoke, falling into himself at the idea of losing his number one pick.
“He’s in my projected.” Debra’s smile only grew as Angel laughed softly next to Masuka.
“Maybe you guys should call a truce?” He looked over. Watching Masuka nod his head urgently while Debra rolled her eyes. Five minutes left now. Dexter scrolled through his own. Organizing his team. He had certain players dedicated to just having a good team buildup, one special one, and a few he knew others would love to trade for. Sean Avery being one of them. He knew the Sarg loved Avery, and low and behold who was in his projected pic for the snake draft? Sean Avery. He had to be smart about picking it, because he knew James better than that. James would ultimately pick him up, but not in the first round. That would be a waste of a first pic. However, Dexter couldn't pick Avery as his first pick. Also quite a waste, but that would destroy the fun of it. Blowing his fuse too soon.
So he would make it his third pick. When really, Avery could’ve passed for a fifth pick given Masuka’s ruling on points. Avery a fantastic player no doubt, but wouldn’t be a big fish compared to some of the others on this list. He smiled to himself, this would be good. Just enough to irritate the other but not make himself suspicious. Just a man who could appreciate a couple points here and there, especially when looking at some of the faulty goalie choices that could cost him if he wasn’t careful in a lineup.
“Who do you think you’re going to pick, Sarg? Third’s not a bad place to be for starting round.” Dexter smiled, fake and empty with hollow eyes that analyzed the way the man squinted at him.
“Why the fuck would I tell you?” Doakes barked. As defensive as ever and this only fueled the fire of their mind games even further. Dexter just gave an awkward frown.
“It’s not like I can take your pick Sarg? I’m fifth.” Dexter mumbled, clicking away while Angel shot a look of sympathy at the redhead, while Deb gave one of frustration to Doakes. The redhead wanted to smile, to flaunt, to let Doakes know he was winning. But based of the way he saw James’ jaw tense, Doakes already knew he was. A heavy silence grew following that. Awkward to try and break the ice now but Angel tried anyway.
“Only a minute left, make sure all your pics are secured.” Batista looked up, smiling. Everyone nodded with determined looks on their faces. Watching as everyone scanned their screens one final time before the buzzer sounded. Dexter was content with his plan, enough good members to build a good team with a fighting chance. And with his proposed crown jewel of Georges Laraque, who would be his second pick. A pick he chose with bias, he knew. He would be logical with his first, then pay homage with his second. Then be petty with his third. The last four would be all strategic plays. But as he looked up from his screen he saw a wolfish grin grow on Doakes‘ face, before watching the man pick Georges Laraque as his first. Dexter stared at the screen, defeated and shocked.
“Ough…Dex that sucks I know you really wanted Laraque.” Deb gave a pitiful glance. Dexter continued to stare at the screen. As if he just needed to blink for Laraque to come back to him. Unfeeling as he clicked his first pick, knowing Laraque could never be his. Laraque would never see the beauty of Dexter's carefully crafted team. Laraque would never see Dexter checking the play-by-play of his games to see if he scored any points. Well, Dexter still would, but with the bitter knowledge that any points Laraque scored would just fuel Doakes’ own pursuit of victory. Hanging his head as he took another pick, not Laraque, didn’t even bother to say anything as his knuckles turned white. Before he smoothed them out in his lap and cocked his head to the side. If Doakes was going to stab him, he wasn’t going to let himself bleed out the misery he knew the Sergeant wanted.
“Didn’t know you’re a Laraque fan Doakes?” Dexter stared at the eyes that were already fixated on him. “Doesn’t make sense to pick him as your first, lot of other promising players on the board huh?”
“I’m not. He’s an ass player.” Doakes twisted the knife. Dexter felt his mask slip, just a tad. But he sealed that crack up with false neutrality like it was caulk. Instead nodding.
“That’s…an opinion of the guy for sure.” He mumbled, hearing Masuka snicker as Angel looked tentatively between the two. Dexter wanted to throw his screen at the man. Laraque was an amazing player, and Dexter knew that. Knew that from the first time he saw Georges step on the ice. And was only solidified when he could recognize a code in the other man as well, in November of last year when he had that fight with Raitis Ivanans. He knew Doakes was just trying to get under his skin, and he wouldn’t let him. Wouldn’t let the man have any real idea of the monster lurking underneath. And Dexter would get his revenge soon anyway, not by his own code, but with his next pick.
The following picks went by easy. Debra shooting up happily once Crosby was hers. Angel nodding and giving proud glances once he got Malkin. And Masuka giving his signature chuckle after managing to somehow land Voracek and Ovechkin. But now it was Dexters turn again, and he made sure Avery was on his team. Watching the flash of anger arise from Doakes, a small polite smile on his face.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing Morgan?” Doakes questioned, whole body tense as he stared down at the screen, preparing his next pick.
“Drafting good players. You’re a fan of Avery aren’t you? I see why, he’ll make some decent points.” He wouldn’t. Not compared to the greatness Laraque could bring, but the satisfaction of beating Doakes could satiate him. He leaned in a little closer, not enough to close the distance between them but enough to tease. Watching as how Doakes sucked his teeth.
“Alright. Stop measuring your dicks and put them away, do the fucking draft.” Debra rolled her eyes, picking another person with glee beaming through her face despite the temporary annoyance.
“Unless you need a ruler?” Masuka shot, receiving an disgusted groan from Deb before Doakes shot him a look. Making the shorter man immediately shut up.
“Alright. Let the lovers quarrel amongst themselves, after all Dex is heartbroken over Laraque and Avery isn’t a good rebound.” Angel observed, sighing as he made his final pick. Clearly not content with a pick he had just made himself.
“I’m not heartbroken, he’s just a good player.” Dexter spoke, staring at Avery in his roster as they were finally picking the last scraps of their draft now.
“Yeah and you totally don’t geek out everytime he makes his way to Florida. Don’t think I ignored the way you were glued to ESPN when you found out there was talk about him going on the Penguins with Crosby?” Debra laughed, shoving him slightly and Dexter raised his arms in mock defense before picking his final players. His sister was as perceptive as ever and that was dangerous. But at least now she could know him, through hockey. Through an acceptable enjoyment of violence found in roughhousing on the ice. But he did think the fact that Laraque could potentially join the Penguins to be poetic in a way. Laraque could potentially serve as valuable protection for players like Crosby. Laraque using his aggression for good, defending others against the more viscous opponents. It made Dexter’s lips want to curl in a feeling he didn’t have and couldn’t name.
“I just think being on the Penguins would give him a good opportunity to flourish, Crosby too.” Dexter shrugged, looking over his shoulder to stare at Deb who gave another exaggerated eye roll.
“You just want to see him slam a couple dudes against the glass.” Doakes finally looked up after coming to terms with his team, promptly named ‘SurpICE Motherfucker’. Tilting his head as he leaned closer to Dexter. “Why is that?”
“I just think enforcers are a pivotal part of hockey. It would be a shame to lose them.” Dexter said, too calmly and coolly for Doakes’ taste.
“Okay really, you two take your super intresting heated discussion away from here. If you’re going to bicker all season, at least wear your jerseys.” Masuka complained. Shutting his laptop as he did. Dexter broke eye contact first just to stare at the dissapointing lineup of “Skate ‘till You Scream”. He jumped around, looking at the others before landing on Doakes one last time. Eyeing him and his lineup. Eventually shutting his own computer as their time was ending soon, they could only justify being away from work for so long after all.
But Dexter was really unsure of whether he wanted Avery to shit the bed this season. Stuck between the victory of imagining Doakes’ growing more and more agitated with each loss, or the defeat of Doakes’ team ranking higher than him. Mocking him with the fact Georges Laraque was on Doakes’ team, who would probably keep him benched most of the season just to spite Dexter.
Either way Dexter was going to figure out a way to win.
Even without Georges Laraque.