Work Text:
Summer 2045
Cool air conditioning flooded around Mazzy, distracting from the mid-summer heat, as she pulled open the door to the rink in suburban Ottawa. It was early still, the sun had just crested the horizon, but she was used to the early mornings at this point. She hiked her bag on her shoulder and then entered the empty rink…
Except…it wasn’t empty. There, in the middle of what was supposed to be her pristine ice, was a girl, in a fucking leotard and tights. No…not a girl, a woman, maybe 19 or 20 like Mazzy. The ice princess was cute, her blond hair had been pulled up into a bun but instead of the pristine slicked back look Mazzy was used to seeing on figure skaters, her bun was messy and curls were spilling over her face as she twirled around the ice. Mazzy shook her head, there were a million reasons she didn’t need to be thinking about a fucking ice skater in Ottawa.
“Hey,” Mazzy yelled to the figure skater. “This is my ice time.”
The figure skater stopped and skated up to the boards. “It’s not just your ice time, it’s for the camp.”
Mazzy huffed. She wasn’t wrong…but it was for the camp counselors, and Mazzy had learned if she showed up early, she could get some ice time alone. This girl certainly wasn’t a counselor. That had been the entire point of singing up for a summer of coaching at the Game Changers camps. The camps were famous in youth hockey, boasting a camp in eight different cities. In each city, there was a whole crew of celebrity players from the NHL, PWHL, and Olympic teams. There was also a staff of counselors that worked all 8 camps, traveling through the summer to each city. They were in charge of keeping the camps on schedule, managing all the paperwork needed for each camp, and overall letting the famous pro players be talent versus babysitters.
Like Mazzy, they were mostly made up of young college and AHL players that were looking to work with great players. As a bonus, they got free ice time. The camps rented out the rinks for the entire week, versus just during the day. Mazzy already played for Michigan, but she had a real shot of making alternate captain her junior year and she had her eyes set on Team Canada for 2026. She needed as much free on ice time as possible. It was easier to do camps versus staying back on Calgary for the summer.
“For the camp,” Mazzy responded. “You aren’t part of the camp, clearly.”
“Clearly,” The girl responded. “But, I’m already here.”
“But…” Mazzy narrowed her eyes.
“How about I make you a deal.” The figure skater said.
“Ugh,” Mazzy wasn’t interested in a deal.
“If I can beat you in both figure skating and hockey, then you can have the ice. All you have to do is beat me in hockey. But, you have to try to figure skate.”
“This is stupid.” Mazzy declared. “I’m going to beat you; you just want to humiliate me on the ice.”
“Hey…I’m going to put on hockey skates. We’re both going to be humiliated.”
“But I get the ice, all week, once I beat you in hockey.” Mazzy was skeptical.
“I’ll go easy on you. What’s your shoe size?”
This was a bad idea. Mazzy knew this was a bad idea. The last thing she needed was to get injured on fucking figure skates. But this girl was even cuter up close, with her crooked smile and blond ringlets framing her face. Mazzy had been horribly single the last six months after she broke up with her first college girlfriend. Maybe…she tried to shut that thought down, there was no way this girl was interested in Mazzy.
***
“Toe pick.” the Ice princess, Alana said the second time Mazzy lost her balance on the ice.
It had only taken a few minutes for Alana, the woman had introduced herself to Mazzy as they walked back to the locker room, to shove a pair of perfectly sized figure skates at Mazzy. They were in decent condition and were far better than the stock of rental skates that lived at the rink.
“This fucking sucks,” Mazzy grumbled, mostly to herself.
Alana reached out her hand towards Mazzy, and Mazzy accepted it, her warms fingers wrapping around her palm and a flutter going straight to her belly. Alana gave a wide smile as she deftly pulled Mazzy to her feet and then Mazzy crashed into her.
Alana’s strong arms wrapped around Mazzy to catch her and Mazzy paused, enjoying this feeling of…
Shit she chastised herself and pulled away quickly. “Just show me what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“It might be easier is you go backwards.” Alana explained, gracefully turning on a sweeping backwards skate. “The toe pick won’t get in the way as much.”
“Thanks,” Mazzy said, she spun around and started in an easy motion backwards. It was easier, not as clean and easy as her hockey skates, but she didn’t have to risk falling flat on her face once again when her dreaded toe pick caught the ice.
Alana did, what appeared to be, a very simple routine going backwards. Mazzy followed, giving a half assed attempt. She didn’t actually need to worry about winning. She just needed to score on Alana once and then she would have her ice, all to herself. She made it through something that maybe sort of resembled what Alana had done and then declared. “Okay, I lost, my turn to beat you.”
Alana shrugged. “Okay.”
They went back to the locker room and Mazzy noticed that Alana seemed to know exactly where to find a pair of hockey skates that fit her perfectly. Alana pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an Ottawa Centaurs hoodie over her leotard. Mazzy was a bit surprised that Alana had a hockey sweatshirt in her locker, but it was Ottawa. This city fucking loved their home team. It was nothing like Calgary. Itwas filled with fair weather fans that only cared when their teams were on a winning run.
“I’ll go easy.” Mazzy said casually, as she stopped and spray of ice perforated around the rink.
“I won’t,” Alana said as she juggled the puck in her hand.
Mazzy lazily stretched, tapped her stick twice and then looked at the goal on the end of the rink. “Whoever scores first, wins the ice in the morning, all week.”
“Deal,” Alana easily agreed.
They lined up at center ice and Mazzy dropped the puck. Mazzy was fast but Alana had the advantage of control of her stick first and she was off with the puck, easily volleying it.
“Fuck,” Mazzy swore under her breath and chased after Alana. She just needed to…
And suddenly, with no goaltender, Alana made a clear and easy hit into the net.
“That’s not… Mazzy huffed. There was no way this ice princes had just won against her in less than 30 second.
“You weren’t ready, I get it.” Alana examined the tape at the bottom of her stick. “We can call this a practice round.”
“Sure,” Mazzy agreed and they reset at center ice. This time, Mazzy was ready. She took the puck and was hulling towards the goal. She gave it her all, and then the next thing she knew, Alana was pocking the puck away and slamming it straight into the net.
“Fuck,” Mazzy swore.
“You did good though, you’re fast.” Alana said, her breathing heavy from racing to keep up with Mazzy. “There aren’t a lot of people that can keep up with me.”
Mazzy wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or shove Alana in that moment. God, she was stunning, more so after she had beaten Mazzy, but also fuck. Mazzy had spent practically her whole life at being the best hockey player and now…this figure skater just…
Her thoughts were cut off from a man’s voice somewhere off in the bleachers. “Good job, Lana.” The voice was accented, Russian likely. “But I thought you came for figure skating, no?”
She turned around to see two middle aged men in Ottawa Centaurs hats and Camp Game Changers track suits. She quickly placed them, even though she had never met them before. Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, two absolute legends and more importantly the founders of this camp. Their story was why Mazzy had signed up in the first place. They had given an interview a few years ago where they explained that they had devised the camps as a way to be friends in public without people finding out about their relationship. It was so tragic that they hadn’t been able to be out in the open.
“I got distracted, Papa.” Alana responded as she skated over to the boards.
“You’re fast.” Shane Fucking Hollander said, looking towards Mazzy. “You’re one of counselors?”
“Me,” Mazzy pointed to her chest.
Shane Hollander, Shane…Mr. Hollander…Hollander. Fuck how did you address one of your queer hockey idols. “Yes, you, not a lot of people can keep with Alana on the ice.”
“Dad,” Alana groaned. “I’m not…like….that good.”
Mazzy wanted to yell a giant bullshit…but also. What the actual fuck. She knew that Rozanov and Hollander were going to be at this camp, but she hadn’t expected… Well, she hadn’t expected that she would want to kiss their daughter.
“You are,” Rozanov replied. “Also, where is your brother. He is supposed to be here too.”
“He’s back with Gus, helping him fix the Zamboni.” Alana pointed to the tunnel.
“Is it broken again?” Hollander asked.
“I don’t know…but Mik loves fiddling with that thing.” Alana shrugged. “They may just be doing maintenance.”
“We should go check,” Hollander grimaced and then pulled his husband down towards the tunnel.
Mazzy turned around to where Alana was scuffing her skate on the ice, shyly. “So you hustled me?”
Alana shrugged, “I still didn’t know if I could beat you.”
“But you know hockey…your dad are literally…”
Alana shrugged. “Sure, but a lot if kids grow up on the ice.”
“I should have realized.” Mazzy said, looking back at Alana’s Ottawa sweatshirt.
“You should have asked.” Alana said.
And then Mazzy did want to ask. So, she it her lip and said, “We could…do you want to get coffee with me.”
Alana shrugged and gave a smile. “Are you asking me on a date.”
“I…um…I do you want it to be?”
Alana nodded. “I very much want to it to be.”