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Summary
“We need you to argue again,” Dykstra says suddenly.
A few seconds of silence follow, three sets, four if you include Haasy looking up uncertainly every couple of seconds, of eyes trained on them expectantly.
“You want us to argue?” Shane repeats slowly, confusedly.
Bood nods solemnly. “We played the best game of the fucking season after your argument—”
“It wasn’t because of our argument,” Shane tries to counter, but Ilya’s pretty sure he even knows it’s pointless.
“It was because of your argument,” Wyatt says. “You need to argue on game days.”
Dykstra points between Shane and Ilya. “We need you to argue tomorrow. No questions asked. You are the Captain and the Captain’s first man.”
“Sorry?” Shane says at the same time Ilya says, “No.”
Or the Ottawa Centaurs win a game after Shane and Ilya have a petty argument and turn it into a superstition. Texting fic edition.