Work Text:
[Luca Haas and Adam Young are warming up by passing a puck between each other.]
Haas: Did you remember to order flowers?
Young: Oh my god I told you to remind me about that two days ago!
Haas: There’s no way you’re making this my fault. She’s your girlfriend.
Young: I feel like it’s a little bit.
[Haas aims the puck higher and hits Young in the stomach.]
[Haas is practicing and taking shots at Wyatt Hayes in the net with Marc LaPointe.]
Hayes: Are you serious?
Haas: That’s what I said!
LaPointe: One of these days I’m putting in a trade request.
Haas: Yeah right.
Hayes: You loove us.
[LaPointe aims a slapshot in the top left corner of the net and misses.]
LaPointe: Don’t even say anything.
[Haas and Hayes laugh.]
[Haas skates over to Laurent Meriguet, the second-line center for the Admirals.]
Haas: What are you doing here? I didn’t know they let the juniors on the ice for warmups.
[Meriguet doubles over to laugh.]
Meriguet: Fuck off, Haasy. T’es le même.
Haas: Vraiment? Mais, je suppose que c’est parce que t’es trop encore petit, ein?
[Meriguet shoves Haas who is laughing.]
[Haas is sitting on the bench between Shane Hollander and Nick Chouinard, waiting for the shift change.]
Haas: Ohh, that was rough.
Hollander: Ilya has a bad habit relying too much on his edges.
Chouinard: Still fast, though.
Hollander: Eh. He’s okay.
Haas: Of course you would say that.
[Haas laughs as Hollander rolls his eyes and they both prepare to swing over the boards.]
Haas: I’m surprised they still let you out.
[Haas and Scott Hunter are fighting for control over the puck. Haas gains control of it and shoots it over to Hollander who has a better shot at the net.]
Haas: 8 PM is late for your age, no?
[Hunter scoffs good-naturedly at the chirp.]
Hunter: You’ve been spending too much time around Rozy, rook.
[On the bench, LaPointe nudges Haas’s shoulder.]
LaPointe: We should do a sleepover tonight.
Haas: We are literally rooming together?
LaPointe: No like, with the others.
Haas: Maybe.
LaPointe: You’re such a buzzkill!
Haas: Oh, no. God forbid I want to have a peaceful night. Also you all stink.
LaPointe: What? No we don’t! Haasy!
Haas: Ooh. Maybe I should have stretched more.
Haas: You’re literally hogging the iPad. Pass it over.
Rozanov: Exciting night, no? It is so close to Jurassic Park, if they gave the dinosaurs skates and a hockey stick.
Haas: I already told Hunter it was too late for him.
Rozanov: Ah, you truly are my son. No DNA test needed.
Haas: That blue line is evil. It has to be uneven.
[Haas bangs his stick against the boards with Young when Will Holmberg gets into a scrum with another Admirals defenseman. Evan Dykstra joins in the scrum, and LaPointe pairs off with one of the rookies from the other team.]
Haas: Yeah, let’s fucking go! Nice, Bergy!
Young: Get his ass!
[Haas has his left skate just barely touching the blue line by New York’s defensive zone.]
Haas: Offsides, offsides, offsides.
Haas: Another goalie interference? LaPointe needs to stay away from the net.
Rozanov: LaPointe needs to stay standing. He always falls into the goalie. Not his fault.
Haas: He’s too small. Barely four apples.
Rozanov: What?
Haas: Oh. You’re too old to get it.
Rozanov: Haasy! Against your papa?
[Haas laughs as he swings over the boards to relieve his teammate.]
Haas: How’s your night going?
[The right winger waiting for the puck to drop doesn’t answer.]
Haas: Tough crowd.
[On the bench with Barrett, Haas flops into the other’s side.]
Haas: Why is this game so late? What happened to sleep?
Barrett: You’re too young for this sort of talk, Haasy.
[Haas sighs dramatically, and Barrett just laughs.]
Haas: Fuck! This period is not being nice today.
[A player from the Admirals skates by Haas lazily during a pause in the game.]
Player #34: Tell your teammate to watch out for the goalie, eh?
Haas: Who are you? I don’t even know your name.
Haas: Ooh, that was a bad call.
Hollander: The refs are in a mood, maybe. Power play, though.
Haas: Can’t complain!
[Haas gets an assist from Hollander and tips the puck into the left side of the net. Hollander, Boyle, and Dykstra swarm him and pat his helmet.]
Boyle: Nice one Haasy!
Hollander: Good tip in. I wasn’t sure if you would see it.
Dykstra: Those contacts are good for something.
Haas: Maybe I should wear them more often.
Haas: That was a bullshit call! I didn’t even touch him! He just fell!
[The referee gently pushes him by the shoulders and corrals him towards the penalty box.]
Referee: You can watch the replay, but it was definitely a penalty.
Haas: Fuck this.
[Haas watches the replay of the penalty from his seat in the box, wincing.]
Haas: Okay, maybe it is not complete bullshit.
Hollander: We should try to end this a bit early, eh? Ten minutes is easily enough time to get another goal.
Haas: No need to send it into overtime. Want to assist?
[Hollander laughs, pushing off the boards and skating towards center ice.]
Hollander: In your dreams, Haasy.
Haas: Here, here!
Haas: You spin my head right round, right round—oh fuck. Here!
[Boyle and the second-line left wing start getting into a scrum—Haas and Meriguet pair up as dance partners but just end up holding arms.]
Haas: Feels like we’re back in Zurich.
Meriguet: I remember you being better at fighting back then. What happened?
Haas: Fuck you, Meri.
Meriguet: Si tu veux.
Haas: I’m mic’ed up. Should we cut that out?
[Meriguet laughs, then shrugs while nudging Haas.]
Meriguet: Je m’en fiche. Text me after the game, yeah?
[He skates off while Haas is left speechless in Ottawa’s defensive zone.]
Haas: Ommf—ooh, watch your fucking stick! Are we still in mites?
Haas: Are you fucking kidding me? There is no fucking way that was a good call. Sorry Harris.
[Zane Boodram and Haas are skating around to kill time before the power play.]
Haas: What are your plans for the night?
Bood: Call Cassie, order room service. Maybe treat myself to a movie.
Haas: You mean the first ten minutes?
Bood: Hey! I can get through fifteen.
Haas: Too bad this game isn’t a pride game? Or maybe it is. Lots of gay people on the ice.
[An Admiral forward skating by makes a face.]
Player #19: Hey man, I don’t think that you can say that?
Haas: No, it’s okay. I have gay friends.
[Ottawa ends up winning 3-2 in regulation, and Haas finds himself by Meriguet before the players leave the ice to head back to their locker rooms.]
Meriguet: Good game. Kingfisher tonight. Don’t be late.
Haas: Good game—wait what?
(“Don’t think I didn’t see that at the end of the game, Haasy.” Rozanov looks like he just found out Anya is getting a sister. “You and Meriguet?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Luca says, but he knows that he’s far too pale to get away with even just an impassive face. Fuck Swiss genetics.
“You’re joining us for the Kingfisher, right?” Barrett asks. “Please come. Otherwise it’ll just be Roz and Hollzy being all…Roz and Hollzy, and Hunter and his husband are somehow worse.”
“You’re just upset that Harris had to work,” Luca grumbles, but it’s in good nature. He’s coming regardless. He doesn’t quite have an interest in the club scene that the other baby Centaurs are checking out.
“Yeah, well.” Barrett sighs wistfully. “Someone has to get some tonight to make up for it.”
“Oh my god,” Luca mutters. “This team knows too much about each other.”
“As long as you’re being safe,” Bood laughs.
“I’m putting in a trade requests tomorrow. Fuck all of you.”
“I think you’re mistaking us for Meriguet.”
“Oh my god.”)