Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nicky learned about his trade from the last place he would’ve thought he would: a text message.

He’d been at home, fresh off the exercise bike and wiping his face off with a towel. He liked to get a workout out of the way first thing in the morning. It was still the middle of summer and he was finally free of the three (three) teammate weddings he had to spend his free time attending. He typically spent summers in Vancouver to see his family. Last year he had taken his whole family to see extended family in Italy. That was one of the rare times he could completely detach himself from hockey. As much as he loved his job, spending so many of the months out of the year focussed on hockey took a toll on him.

He’d been stuck in Toronto all summer, taking a break and mostly avoiding people outside of mandated teammate events. He’d already been to more weddings than he could count in his almost ten year long career.

He’d been planning to spend the rest of August relaxing. When he checked his phone and saw the message he’d almost dropped his water bottle onto his home gyms floor.

Quýnh: Yay we’re going to be in Ottawa together!!!

He stared at his phone, feeling like everything was crashing around him.

He Googled his own name and soon enough found an article that made it to press before it could even get to him.

Toronto Maple Leafs’ Nicolò di Genova traded to Ottawa Senators.

It took everything in him to not throw his phone to the ground.

He did the more sensible thing instead, he called his agent.

“Sorry, I was going to call you,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all.

“Ottawa?” he said. “It had to be Ottawa?”

“You’re getting a raise and it’s not like they’re going to demote you to a fourth liner.”

Nicky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get control of his breathing. His arm fell back to his side. “Do you know why I was traded?”

“They wanted to expand the roster a little, you know how it goes. You’ve been playing for Toronto since you were drafted. It’s always good to go somewhere new, play with different people.”

Nicky wasn’t sure of that. Yes, he knew trades were just a normal part of the league but he’d gotten so comfortable on Toronto. It had become his home, it was familiarity. When he was nineteen and charging into the NHL as the first overall draft he had been welcomed with open arms.

He’d always seen himself being one of those players who played on the same team for his whole career. Now he had to figure out what his whole life was going to look like before the summer ended.

There was also the other factor that of all places he had to go to, he was being sent to Ottawa. That brought enough dread to his stomach to make him sick.

His agent explained that he would have to be in Ottawa that next day to go over paperwork. His flight had already been organised. Nicky mapped out how things were going to look in his head. Selling his house, driving his car over, moving his things. He wasn’t completely sold on buying a house or condo in Ottawa quite yet. There’s probably plenty of furnished condos he could stay in for the season. Buying was something he would deal with if he stays in Ottawa for longer than a year.

After he was done talking to his agent, he stayed off his phone for the rest of the day. He made a point to never Google himself, that morning being an exception. He went for a walk to distract himself. He wasn’t approached too much these days. Most people were respectful when they did but that day he needed to be in his own head. He needed to enjoy the city for as long as he could.

He’d have to call Quýnh and Andy later on, the only silver lining in him being in Ottawa. He was glad he had at least heard about the trade from Quýnh of all people, even if she had clearly thought he had already known. He’d heard about other guys finding out about their trades after they had already happened, he just never thought he would be one of them.

On his walk he stopped by a nearby cafe. The baristas knew him and his order by now but he always ordered normally as opposed to shooting ‘my usual’ at them. Even as he said large latte he could see it was already on the screen. He thanked the barista by name and left a 100% tip when it showed on the screen.

He decided to dine in, contributing to his staying off his phone mindset. He liked to take the rare moments to breath. Playing such a high energy sport meant he took all the moments where he could just sit and relax whenever he could.

He was like that during the season too. He wasn’t even too interested to go out drinking after wins and half the time looked for an excuse to get out of going. Most of the time he was sure his teammates didn’t mind leaving him behind.

It wasn’t a way to make friends but friendships could be so futile in this line of work. He’d seen plenty of teammates get traded and replaced with young, fresh faces. There were guys he’d seen at training camp the first year that he never saw again, most moving down to the AHL or worse. With his demanding schedule it was hard to make a lasting friendship when you’d only had a few weeks together.

Nicky didn’t mind. Maybe others would take advantage of the glitz and glamour of being a millionaire athlete but Nicky had never found the appeal in that side of the career. He simply wanted to play hockey for as long as his body would allow, the money was merely a benefit.

When he got home he did some light packing. He had a favourite suit, nothing too fancy which was how he liked to keep it. Some of the guys were trying to dress a bit better but Nicky liked to keep things classic, even if others thought it was boring. Nicky always thought things were boring for a reason, they were predictable. He liked predictable. Anything could happen in hockey that he needed at least one thing in his life where he could expect the outcome.

He didn’t know what to expect from Ottawa. Every possibility that ran through his mind only brought the worst case scenario. He had been the alternative captain for Toronto. Now he was expected to play for a division rival like it was nothing.

He’d moved to his couch and thumped his head back. He knew there were worse teams to have been sent to. He’d rather be sent to a team with a strong roster than one using him to rebuild. Ottawa had a great roster. He’d played with some of those guys at previous All-Star Weekend games.

Who had he even been traded for? He hadn’t made it that far into the article.

Despite his no phone plans, he got up and grabbed his phone. He wasn’t going to respond to anyone but now the question of who was taking his spot was negging him.

The article he had pulled up was still there. He scrolled down, furrowing his brows as he skimmed for a name.

When he saw it his eyes widened.

Marcus Keane will replace Nicolò di Genova as Toronto’s star centre.

His nostrils flared at the name. He’d had more than enough run-ins with Keane for one lifetime. The last interaction he’d had with him was after Keane had given him a dirty comment and before Nicky had known it, he was throwing punches back. All he really remembered was managing to get on top of him to the sounds of his teammates’ sticks hitting the boards as a linesman pulled him off of Keane. The five minutes in the penalty box had been worth it. Nicky was no stranger to fights and Keane was probably the player he’d had the second most fights with.

Keane was a good player, as much as he hated to admit it. He scanned the rest of the article and saw he wasn’t the only one part of the deal. Steven Merrick, a dirty defenceman, was sent to Toronto with Keane. That explained the salary space.

He tossed his phone on the couch. He’d have to make the best of a bad situation. Ottawa could bring good things for him, a better roster and linemates at least.

That next morning he was on a flight to Ottawa. There wasn’t a first class seat from Toronto to Ottawa so Nicky made himself comfortable in business class for the short flight. Or as much as he could. He’d put on his suit. Usually for flights he and most of his teammates would change into more comfortable clothes, putting their suits back on before close to touchdown. He thought about taking his suit jacket off but worried it might wrinkle in the overhead.

When the plane landed and he carried his carry on through security he saw a man waiting for him, holding a sign that said ‘Nicolò di Genova’. He greeted the driver with a polite nod and he was lead to the car.

When they arrived at the arena and was lead inside, he mentally prepared for the press. Despite all the media training he had gone through he was never good behind the camera. That wasn’t a unique quality of a hockey player but he never really came across how he’d wanted to. He thought of himself as more quiet than anything else but a lot of people took ‘quiet’ as ‘rude’. He’d tried to learn to live with it and improve his public speaking skills but so far it had been to no avail.

He went through the affairs of meeting management. He kept a neutral expression he was sure fans were going to dissect every eyebrow crease of. He sat for the press and answered their questions. He never liked doing press, their questions were always bland or unoriginal. How did he feel about being traded? What was he looking forward to with his new team? How will he make things work with his new teammates?

He was quietly surprised they hadn’t brought up the name that had been racketing in his brain ever since he’d heard the news.

He was finally released from their clutches once the papers were signed and he took photos in his new jersey. Despite it being the same size as he current one, it didn’t feel like it fit properly as he tried to not blink at the camera flashes.

“We can help you go apartment hunting if you’d like,” Quýnh said after taking a sip of her iced coffee.

Nicky didn’t respond, distracting himself by stirring sugar into his coffee. He had a few hours to kill before having to fly back to Toronto and had decided he would use that free time to meetup with Andy and Quýnh, who had dragged him to a cafe they liked.

He’d met Andy and Quýnh when they’d played for Toronto’s CWHL team prior to its collapse. They’d both worked for the Toronto’s NHL organisation to make ends meet due to the CWHL’s abysmal pay. They’d been the first other queer hockey he’d met, all too used to the absence of out players in the NHL. The idea of two players being married and open about it — especially while playing together — was a foreign concept. When it came to the NHL, that was reserved for a feel good romance book, not real life.

After the PWHL had been established they had both been drafted to Ottawa. He didn’t see them all that much these days after the distance but they texted a lot. Being in the same city with the few friends he’d had was so far the only welcoming factor about the city.

“Don’t look so sad,” Andy said, halfway through her black coffee. “Most people get traded.”

He let out a huff and finally looked up at them. “I just hate I had to find out the way I did. And yes I know people have been blindsided worse than me but my agent hadn’t even called me.”

Quýnh gave a sad smile. “Sorry. I guess I should’ve waited for you to say something first.”

He waved her off. “It’s fine.” He let out a sigh. “I should’ve asked for a no movement clause on my last contract.” He had been foolish enough to think seniority would be enough to not get a trade. It had been two years out from his pervious contract expiring, only getting it extended last year. Ottawa had ended up signing him for only one year with clear desire for an extension. He felt comfort in the job security and the money was nothing to sneeze at but he couldn’t get over how jarring uprooting his life was going to be.

He looked back at them. “So apartment hunting?” he said.

“There’s a lot of good places to move,” Andy said. “Were you going for a house or a condo or what?”

He paused. He really did just want something easy to maintain and was furnished. “We can look at condos next week. I’ll rent whatever looks good.” He thought about something close to the arena or at least on the edge of downtown. Definitely something not as big as his house. He’d learned quickly it was too much space for one person.

“Could you at least pretend to be excited about the trade? You weren’t winning the cup on that team.”

He sighed. “I know.” Toronto was a good team with good players but he knew in his heart he was being held back on the team. He’d always held out hope the team would figure itself out, that new, better players would come and they could go from a good team to a great team. A cup winning team.

As much as he’d hated to admit it, Ottawa was a team that could win a cup. Their roster was strong and he made it even stronger. He’d been playing for a decade and still hadn’t had the chance to hold the Cup. They’d made it to the playoffs a couple times but that wasn’t the same. They’d never made it past the first round, usually getting defeated in game 7.

They talked for another hour. Andy and Quýnh talked about the plans for the next year for the PWHL and the takeover tour that was planned. He was so happy they’d finally gotten that job security in hockey. He’d watched their games live when he could. He’d definitely try to make their games when they fell on his days off when he was in town.

Even as he grew used to the idea that he was going to be in Ottawa there was one nagging issue that was going to be a problem he’d have to face sooner than later, as much as the idea brought him dread.

Joe’s favourite part of the summer was finally being able to feel like he had pressed an off button on himself.

He used the time to go home to Québec City to see his family. The year was so busy he never really got to see them. His parents would sometimes take the drive to Ottawa but it wasn’t a common occurrence since the drive was so long. They mostly came during playoffs and would stay with him. That was one of his favourite parts of playoffs.

He had an apartment in Québec City close to the house he’d bought his parents. It was a penthouse and the building had a gym for residents. Joe liked to workout there as opposed to fitting a home gym into his apartment, like in his condo in Ottawa. He liked to workout around other people, it made him feel like a somewhat normal person.

That day he’d gone to visit his sister, Yasmine. He sat in the living room as he watched his niece excitedly show him her stick handling. He’d promised to watch her at the rink later. She was only six but she was as obsessed with hockey as he was at her age.

“Now watch this, uncle Joe,” she said. Before he could even confirm he was watching, she hit the plastic ball to the net. He clapped, grinning wide. “Good job! I bet you’re the best on your team.”

She beamed. “I am! I’m the only girl on the team still.”

He stopped himself from frowning. “Well that definitely means you’re better than all of the boys.”

Yasmine called Laila for her afternoon snack and he watched her skip to the kitchen.

He laughed lightly and grabbed his phone. When he checked it he saw that there was a message just received from his teammate, Booker. He frowned at the message telling him to turn on TSN.

He grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. When he saw the image in front of him he almost threw his phone against the wall.

Because why the fuck was Nicolò di Genova on his TV wearing a Ottawa Jersey.

He stood up and walked outside and called Booker.

He shouted into his phone before Booker could even give a hello. “What the fuck! When the fuck did he get traded to us?”

On the other end, Booker paused before he responded. “English?”

“My niece,” he said, looking over his shoulder to make sure Yasmine’s death glare wasn’t waiting for him. “She’s not fluent in English yet.”

Booker clucked his tongue and continued the conversation in French on his end. “The news broke yesterday I think. Toronto took Keane and Merrick if it makes you feel better.”

It should make him feel better but as of right now he wasn’t focussed on that.

Nicolò di Genova had been a thorn in his side even before he burst into the NHL as the number 1 draft pick at 18 years old, much like Joe had been.

The first game they had played against each other and resulted in a five minute penalty for both of them. di Genova wouldn’t stop chirping at him, promising him he’d score more goals than him for his rookie year. It had been too long to remember who threw the first punch but he remembered snarling at di Genova as the linesmen pulled them apart.

Most games went the same way.

Maybe not the chirping exactly but at one point or another they would get into a fight. Maybe a shove, maybe an ‘accidental’ trip. When things got really heated that was when the fists came out. Joe was positive there was plenty of videos on YouTube and TikTok to show them progressing over the years.

For a forward, di Genova got into a lot of fights. The man really should’ve been a defenceman if he hadn’t been such a good forward. They’d played together on the Canada’s World Junior team. Even back then they’d butted heads enough for a different left winger to take Joe’s place on the startling line. Joe was still quietly bitter about that. He’d been counting on that starting line position to help his first pick chances. It didn’t matter that he ended up the first overall draft, it was simply the principle. Even when he left the junior league to begin his NHL career and di Genova had another year left.

The idea they would be on the same team again wasn’t exactly something welcoming. He was on the starting line and he knew with how much di Genova cost he would probably be too. He wasn’t going to lose his starting line spot again because the asshole didn’t want to get along.

“I bet he’s pissed,” he muttered into the phone then snorted. “I bet he thought he could make Toronto a cup winning team.”

Booker laughed on the other line. “Not with that roster. I always thought he was too good for them.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“A good player is a good player. He’ll be good for the team if you two can manage to get along.”

Joe ran a hand through his hair as he started to pace. They weren’t back to practice for a few more weeks so at least it wasn’t like the trade deadline where a new guy was just shoved onto the team weeks before playoffs.

“Look,” Booker continued. “I know you two don’t get along for whatever reason. Maybe he’s grown up since juniors. Use being on the same team again as an opportunity. It’s not like you haven’t thrown punches first at him.”

Joe couldn’t help but snort at the comment. He couldn’t lie, as violent of a player di Genova could be, Joe was never one to not throw a punch when he was pumping with enough adrenaline. Most of the time he wasn’t one to throw punches first but the second he received enough checks or chirps from di Genova, it was like his fists had a mind of their own.

They left the phone call with promises to catch up again soon. Booker was visiting his family in Montreal and they’d agreed to meet back in Ottawa. Family time was so rare these days, especially when living in a difference province.

When he went back inside and into the kitchen, Yasmine was drinking her tea while Laila sat at the counter eating her snack.

“Important call?” Yasmine asked in French.

Joe glanced at Laila before looking back. “I just called Book about a trade we got,” he said in English.

Laila furrowed her brows, clearly trying to translate the words.

Yasmine glanced at Laila before looking back at Joe, switching to English. “Good trade? Bad trade?”

“Keane and Merrick were sent to Toronto.”

“Oh, that’s a good thing right? I know you don’t really got along with them.”

He snorted. “That’s not the issue, it’s who we got.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “We got di Genova.”

She gaped at him. “Oh yeah, not the best trade.”

Understatement of the fucking year. He didn’t want to really talk about it in front of Laila, even if she still barely understood English.

He sat on the barstool, letting out a sigh. “It’ll be fine.” He looked at Laila, switching back to French. “Do you still want to go to the rink today?”

She bounced excitedly in her spot. “Yes! I want to practice my skating.”

Yasmine gave him a wary look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Being a hockey superstar didn’t account for the most privacy. He didn’t get recognised as much as a real celebrity but going to an ice rink was the exact kind of crowd who would recognise him. Most people would tend to be respectful, especially when he was with family.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her.

They spent the afternoon at the rink. He was recognised a couple of time but they were the sort of fans who only wanted to wave. He and Laila were on the rink and she excitedly showed him her skating skills. She was only five but like a lot of kids she learnt to skate from a young age.

He loved using the summer to spend time with his family. He couldn’t lie, he felt some guilt that he was too busy to see his family during the season. Other than summer the only time he really had off to have enough time to see his family was during the break for Christmas. He felt like a million miles away in Ottawa but it was at least in the same country. He still didn’t understand how the European players managed being so far away from home.

He took Laila home. She’d fallen asleep in the backseat. She’d tired herself out well from skating. She skated a lot better than the last time he’d seen her. Another cruel reminder he was too far away from home.

When he got back to his apartment he checked his phone for the first time in a few hours. He saw plenty of notifications from the team’s group chat. He held back a sigh before opening it up.

It wasn’t anything too much. He saw his teammates wishing Keane and Merrick the best. There were a few jabs at di Genova which he chuckled at.

He sent a message into the chat saying, ‘hopefully di Genova doesn’t give us too much trouble’.

He got a response from his goalie Lykon quickly.

‘He’s good at fighting. We need someone like that on the team’

Another message from a different teammate followed.

‘Joe would know that’

Instinctively he touched his eye, where di Genova left a good black eye during the end of the regular season. It was Ottawa’s last game against Toronto and Toronto had been fighting tooth and nail for the wild card spot. Ottawa had managed to scrape to getting the second wild card spot but Toronto was only one point behind. That win would’ve knocked Ottawa out of the playoffs.

Things had gotten heated on the ice. Keane had started the first fight, a punch in the face to one of Toronto’s defensemen. After the fight had gotten broken up Keane had sat in the penalty box for two minutes. After the power play, di Genova checked him and Joe had given him a hard shove. Next thing he knew they were throwing punches and Joe’s back was on the ice.

As much as fighting was a normal part of the game, something about di Genova brought it out of him like no one else. As much as di Genova was a chirper, he had a good amount of brawn to him. Maybe that was why they always fought, it was a lot harder to ignore someone who checked you into the boards every chance he got.

He decided to not overthink the whole thing. di Genova might not even want to stay for longer than a season. Joe would be waving him a goodbye with a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

The longest summer of Nicky’s life ended with him in a white and blue jersey with the Ottawa Senators’ logo on his chest, the words ‘Property of Ottawa’ around it in a circle.

A few weeks ago he’d found a condo close to the arena to rent for a year. It was furnished but Andy and Quýnh insisted on helping him decorate. Quýnh said something about not wanting him to live in a glorified hotel room, even though that was what it pretty much was to him. He wouldn’t be spending much time there with how much travelling he would have to do for games and he never took men to his own place on the rare occasion he went to find someone while home. Whether it was on the road or at home he would always tell people he had a roommate who had to wakeup early. It was a believable excuse and if they knew who he was they would pretend to believe him.

The condo was nice enough to get him through the year and then talk to his agent about finding a new team over the summer. Even if he didn’t go to Vancouver moving to the east might be a nice change of pace.

He did his stretches on the ice, trying to tune out the chatter and chirps around him. He hadn’t felt this out of place since he had been a rookie fresh out of training camp. At least then he had the shining label of the first overall pick.

He was able to concentrate on stretching until a voice broke through.

He wasn’t sure what the words were exactly, they were in French and like most Vancouverites his French was minimal. It definitely wasn’t up to par with the rapid conversation happening a few feet away.

Against his better judgement he glanced over to Yusuf Al-Kaysani. He was having an animated conversation with his defenceman, Sébastien le Livre — although he knew his teammates called him Booker.

Al-Kaysani was unfairly handsome in his hockey gear. His visor was up and little tufts of curls were finding their way out from underneath his helmet. He and Booker were on the ice together as they stretched a few feet away.

Nicky realised he’d stopped stretching when Al-Kaysani’s head turned and their eyes locked. Nicky felt his muscles tightens as if he hadn’t stretched at all.

Al-Kaysani’s jaw clenched and he looked away, leaving Nicky to feel stupid for staring.

“Hey, Nova.” He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, which almost made him jump to his feet.

He looked up and saw a forward he couldn’t remember the name of standing over him. Nicky gave him with a curious look.

“Sorry to bug you, we all have our rituals I get it. Coach just wanted to talk to you.”

He blanched for a few seconds before standing up, deciding to not argue with the nickname. He’d pronounced it as ‘Noe-Vah’ which isn’t the worst of nicknames out there. He’d usually tell people to just call him Nicky. It was his name in his everyday life and a perfectly acceptable hockey nickname, even if most people liked to play around with surnames. His least favourite had been his nickname in juniors, ‘DG’, which just seemed more lazy than anything.

He found Coach Copley behind the bench. Wordlessly, Coach waved him to follow him. Nicky grabbed some skate guards and followed him out of the rink towards where he assumed his office was.

“I just wanted to brush off some finer details, Nicolò,” he said, going behind his desk.

“Nicky,” he corrected this time.

James Copley wasn’t an intimidating man but he was surrounded with a certain air of professionalism that called for respect. He’d spent most of his career playing in his hometown of Boston, winning the team three Stanley Cups as captain. He’d been drafted fifth overall, the highest drafted Black player at the time. Nicky had grown up not paying too much attention to the Eastern conference as a Vancouver fan but everyone knew Copley as a highly regarded player. He’d met him when he’d signed his contract and he had given Nicky a firm handshake with a warm smile.

“Nicky,” Copley repeated with ease. “First, I want to give you another welcome to the team. We are very happy to have you.”

Nicky decided to take that as the royal ‘we’ with how Al-Kaysani had been leering at him. He gave Copley a smile.

“I’m ready to play,” he said. “I know my trade wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“No but I know a good player when I see it. Your talents were being wasted in Toronto.”

Nicky couldn’t lie that the team really had to pull their shit together so he decided to not argue. Winning the cup was barely a flicker in the team’s eye.

“Anyway, I wanted to let you know I plan to start you on the first line. I know it will be difficult on a new team but that’s what practice is for.”

It was nice to hear he wasn’t getting a demotion but he knew without being told what playing on the starting line meant.

He gave a nod. He had a reputation of not being too difficult and he’d rather keep it.

“Thanks, Coach. I’ll do my best.”

“Good. I’d like to also let you know with Marcus Keane gone the alternative captain spot has opened up. I’ll give it a few weeks but the sport can be yours if you’d like it.”

Well, maybe not much was going to change with this team. He felt kind of bad wanting to leave by this time next year. Although not deciding to take it when he was offered felt like a weird demotion. Maybe by then he would feel differently — or maybe it would go to someone else on the team.

He left the office, ready to throw himself into practice.

He had barely gotten his skate guards off before there was a shadow over him. He dropped his second skate guard and straightened up to see Booker, Ottawa’s captain.

Booker was a great player and someone he enjoyed watching before he started playing himself. He was a solid defenceman but the other thing he was well known for was leading most of the bets during any given event. Far too many NHL players had an affinity for gambling — understandable consequences of giving someone millions of dollars before the age most people graduate university — and he was regularly in charge of whatever was being pooled during league events. He doubted things were different wit his team.

The other thing was he was Al-Kaysani’s best friend and he likely felt animosity towards Nicky just out of loyalty.

“Welcome to the team,” Booker said. His tone wasn’t exactly warm, clearly just wanting to fulfil his captain responsibilities.

Nicky immediately locked into old habits and just gave a nod. Booker seemed satisfied and skated away.

He let out a breath and found a space on the ice to return to stretching.

Practice went mostly okay. Ottawa had a different play style to Toronto. Most of the guys were friendly enough. Some of the younger players seemed a bit starstruck but that was something he’d grown used to. It had taken years to get over it himself when he’d met players he’d admired or — god forbid — he’d previously had a crush on.

He focussed on trying to play well on Al-Kaysani’s line. The last time they’d played together was at the All-Star Game earlier that year. The only other time they’d played together consistently was with the World Juniors. But even that wasn’t a real length of time in the grand scheme of things. For the first time they’d have to figure out how to play together without butting heads. He was pretty sure Al-Kaysani hadn’t forgiven him for the line demotion in World Juniors.

The season opener was in a few days against Florida, then a week long roadie of three games. Another reason he was glad to have gotten a furnished apartment. It was kind of sickening such a nice apartment was left empty for so much of the year.

Things had been mostly fine throughout practice until Nicky caught an edge while dodging one of the defensemen and stumbled.

Right into Al-Kaysani.

Both of them met the ice with a thud, sliding across the ice.

Nicky barely had a chance to regain himself before Al-Kaysani started to scream at him.

“What the fuck, di Genova? Were you not watching where you were going?”

He gritted his teeth. Yeah, he was sorry but he wasn’t going to take Al-Kaysani yelling at him in front of everyone.

“You crashed into me, you fucking asshole!” he snapped back, reaching for where his stick had landed before standing up. Al-Kaysani was still down on the ice like he was unwilling to move.

The others were watching them. Of course they were screaming at each other like they were still teenagers at World Juniors. He wasn’t sure what about this man got under his skin so much.

Booker skated over clearly to intervene. “Can you two knock it off,” he said, a sharp looking given particularly to Al-Kaysani.

Clearly feeling betrayed by lack of loyalty, Al-Kaysani narrowed his eyes at him. “If he would watch where he’s going—”

“Joe,” Booker cut him off. Al-Kaysani flared his nostrils but didn’t continue.

“Nicolò, just knock it off. Say sorry next time.”

Nothing more pathetic than being spoken to like you were still in U12s. He gave his captain a curt nod. Booker seemed satisfied with that.

Coach yelled out to get back to practicing in not the most patient voice. The spectators around them took the hint and he heard skates to ice around him.

He and Al-Kaysani were still staring at each other. At some point Al-Kaysani and managed to get to his feet and he glared at him as he held his stick.

This time Nicky was the first one to look away. He turned his back to him and skated to centre ice to get into position.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Andy said, handing Nicky a cup of coffee. Even though it was his own house, Andy wanted to be the first person to use his new coffee maker.

Nicky took a sip of his coffee in an effort to calm himself down. The hot liquid went down his throat as he ignored the burn on his tongue.

“Me and Al-Kaysani crashed into each other and he screamed at me,” he said, not even looking at Andy and Quýnh as he set his mug onto the coffee table. He hadn’t bought coasters and coffee spilled from the mug and onto the wood.

Quýnh — who was sat across from him with her own mug of coffee — raised her brow at him. “You crashed into him?”

“Well, he crashed into me and then screamed at me.” He’d replayed that moment in his head so many times and he was so sure Al-Kaysani had crashed into him. He was starting to doubt himself and was worrying he had been the one not paying attention. It was too late for his pride to admit he was in the wrong but he still stood by that it didn’t give cause for him to be screamed at on his first day.

Andy sat next to Quýnh, her own mug now in hand. “How are you two going to play together this season?” she said. “You butt heads like egotistical kids on your first real hockey team.”

Nicky didn’t know either. Their first game was so close and he knew they had to find a way to set their feelings aside before one of them got sent to the second line. Between himself and Al-Kaysani, it would probably be him this time.

“We’ll just have to figure it out,” Nicky said.

“Maybe you’ll finally keep out of the penalty box,” Andy said.

Nicky scrunched his nose. “Not happening. You have better chances than me.”

Andy gave a wave of her hand. “I have my lovely wife to jail break me out, I don’t need to worry about it.”

Quýnh snorted. “I’m pretty much positive it’s the only reason I’m on the PK. We could’ve been great on the power play together.”

“We have to give the other team some kind of fair shot.”

Nicky couldn’t help but smile. Outside of men he’d bring to bed, he spent virtually no time with other queer people. Another occupational hazard.

Nicky wouldn’t say he had an issue with being single. While he still had a career in hockey it was for the best to keep quiet about his sexuality. Like most men’s sports, being openly gay wasn’t a feasible option. Right now a relationship wouldn’t be fair to his potential boyfriend, even if it got lonely sometimes.

With the first game coming up, Andy and Quýnh were coming to watch. They were going to be in the upstairs suite where the WAGs would tend to sit. If the game hadn’t been sold out they would’ve preferred to sit with the crowd. The Ottawa social media had been really amping up the fanfare of Nicolò di Genova playing with his former division rival team.

Part of him wondered if people were expecting him and Al-Kaysani to start throwing punches while being on the same line. He still made it a point to stay off of social media. Sometimes Andy and Quýnh would feed him things they thought he should know but otherwise, he was oblivious. Even as a fan he never spent much time online. He had a Facebook briefly when he was 13, back when all of his classmates had discovered the website like a new toy. That had been deleted when he’d made World Juniors at seventeen. His only social media appearances were through team’s offical social media. One good thing about not having social media was that he wasn’t tempted to see what people were saying in the comments of those posts.

Other than that, Andy or Quýnh would post pictures that included him in group photos. They were decent enough to always ask permission since they knew how much he hated having a digital footprint. The only kind of comments they would really let him know about was laughing at comments that were wondering if any random women in a photo was Nicky’s girlfriend.

They stayed at his place for another few hours. Nicky had really missed their company. After they had moved to Ottawa he hadn’t spent much time socialising. On the rare occasion he was invited out with his teammates it was usually to some local straight bar. As bad as he was at maintaining friendships on the team, he took offers to socialise when he was feeling particularly bored or lonely.

His isolation was of his own making, he knew that. He’d always been quiet and reserved. That didn’t translate well when you played a sport that was so fast and loud. He’d felt even more isolated when he’d realised he was gay at fourteen. After that, his main focus had been getting to the NHL and playing the best hockey he possibly could and maybe find a nice man to spend his life with and keep it mostly under-wraps. He was still holding onto hope the latter would sort itself out.

He didn’t have plans to make friends this year either. He was going to hightail out of there the second he had the chance, at least if he wasn’t traded again before he could decide for himself.

“He is such a fucking asshole.”

“Yes, Joe, we know,” Nile said, turning the page of the book she was reading.

“I just don’t understand where he gets the fucking nerve.”

“We all do, Joe,” Booker said, not even bothering to glance away from his phone.

“How hard is it to even say sorry about tripping me?”

“Yes, he’s horrible, we get it,” Nile said.

Joe let out an exasperated sigh and fell onto his couch.

Booker had come with him after practice to his condo so they could hang out with Nile. With the season about the begin and Nile about to start her own first season in the PWHL, they liked to spend time together at their houses.

He was having more difficulty than he’d like to admit around getting over what had happened with di Genova at practice. It was petty and childish but Joe wasn’t looking forward to dealing with him for the whole season. di Genova surely had to have grown out of the petty seventeen year old.

He’d caught him giving him the stink eye before being pulled into Coach’s office. When he came back, Booker did his duty as captain to welcome him to the team, one of the rare times Joe was glad he had an A and not a C. When di Genova left to go back to stretching, Booker muttered that he was an asshole. Joe hadn’t asked why, he hadn’t needed to. di Genova always had an air of assholery.

He thought he would make it through practice, then next thing he knew he was knocked to the ice, di Genova on the ground with him like he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I still don’t get why you don’t like him,” Nile said, marking her page with a bookmark before setting it down. “It was only World Juniors you really spent time together, right?”

Joe didn’t really know how to put it all into words. “He always came across like he was better than everyone. He focussed way too much on getting the puck for himself and acted like he never wanted to assist. When we played together he was already projected at the number 1 draft pick for his year. It was like he thought he was too good for the rest of us, even though were were all there because we were some of the best of our age.”

Nile nodded slowly. “Were you projected at number 1 yet? That was the World Juniors before your draft, right?”

“Yeah, it was. And no, I wasn’t ever projected as the number 1 pick.”

He had been projected in the top 10 but he and Keane were drafted in the same year. Keane had been projected as number 1 for most of that year until Joe came in to swoop it up. Keane was American so they hadn’t had much interaction outside of World Juniors. Keane had been drafted at number 8 by New Jersey and Joe had thought he would never have to see him again. Then a big trade package happened right before his season had started that sent Keane straight to Ottawa with Merrick — drafted the same year at 42 — in tow. Keane never seemed to get over his number 1 position being taken away and took it out on Joe as if there hadn’t been six other people to blame.

“Okay… that still doesn’t really answer my question,” Nile said. “Why do you two specifically butt heads?”

He shrugged. “Can’t explain it. Even when our junior teams would meet we’d always end up fist-fighting.”

“He first fights everyone, Joe, you’re not special,” Booker said, barely turning his head to look at him. “It’s a shame he’s a forward, I would’ve loved him as my defence partner.”

The thing was di Genova did fight everyone but somehow every single time their teams would play against each other it would end in the two of them fighting. He couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t fought on the ice. Four games a year shouldn’t have lead to that many fights.

He wouldn’t say it felt targeted but it was definitely fuelled by their long held animosity with the division rivalry on top. di Genova had gotten into plenty of fights with Keane but that was usually following some kind of remark Keane had made. Needless to say, Keane was yet to be mic’d up.

“I’ve always heard he was quiet,” Nile said. “Is that true?”

‘Quiet’ could be an accurate way to describe him. With how superstitious most players could be Joe wouldn’t be surprised if it was some weird meditation thing where he thought talking too much before a game would ruin his game. Like the rest of them he had been primmed and primed with the best media training but even that didn’t seem to encourage him to give more than one sentence answers in interviews.

They had been too young to go out drinking during World Juniors but usually during All-Star Weekend the players would go out, regardless of conference. Joe always joined. He’d always begrudgingly put up with straight bars for his team and he could extend that courtesy to All-Star Weekend.

di Genova never took part in all the years he’d gone to All-Star Weekend. When he was nineteen and Joe was twenty and they had been stuck at the hotel in Columbus they hadn’t even interacted while their peers had been down getting drunk at the hotel bar. Joe had thought about asking him to hang out. It had been Joe’s second All-Star Weekend and di Genova’s first. There had been a couple other All-Star rookies but they’d played in the west and had kept to themselves. Joe had thought it would be a good chance to get to know di Genova a bit better without the stress of World Juniors. Instead they’d avoided each other, only seeing each other for those All-Star games.

‘Quiet’ may be one adjective to describe de Genova but it wouldn’t be Joe’s first choice.

It was the nicest though so Joe told Nile he was.

“You guys are still coming to my first game right? No schedule clash?” Nile asked, leaving Joe glad the conversation had shifted away from di Genova.

“Of course!” Joe said. “We have to see the worlds greatest goaltender in person.”

She gave a wave of her hand. “Maybe not the best yet but I’m getting there.”

The PWHL season didn’t start until the end of November. It was hard enough to plan your life around hockey obligations, adding someone else’s only made it harder. Luckily enough, Ottawa’s PWHL team had their first game on a day that Ottawa’s NHL team had the day off and were in the city.

They’d met Nile when she was doing an internship on the corporate side of the Ottawa team while she was still in university doing her Masters in Marketing. She played for Carleton University’s women's hockey team and killed it as a goalie. Joe had been so proud of her when she had been drafted to a team to get to play professionally.

They talked about hockey and life in general. Booker talked about one of his sons starting to learn to skate, Nile talked about practice and making friends with other players and Joe talked about his non existent love life, leaving di Genova the last thing on his mind.

Chapter Text

Joe flashed a dimpled smile to the teams photographer as he walked into the arena, coffee cup in his hand. He knew he was of popular demand when it came to the teams social media and he didn’t mind the fans seeing his photo before games.

He always loved the first home game of a season. The season was clean and the cup was truly anyone’s shot.

Ottawa hadn’t ever won a cup. They had been plenty good enough to make the playoffs during his career but they hadn’t made it passed the first round most of those times. If they had, they were knocked out in the second round. It got even more discouraging after each year, and the lead up to each trade deadline whenever he had an few off games didn’t help.

When he got to the locker room he saw a few of the guys already in there. Most of them were already halfway through getting their gear on. Lykon was already in the corner putting his goalie gear in the very specific order he always did. Everyone knew better than to bother him, one mistake and he would have to start from the beginning.

Booker had texted him he’d be there about half an hour after Joe had arrived. Some of the time they came in together. Booker had a few years on him and more or less had taken him under his wing when he had been a rookie. Joe had grown into his own but he and Booker had remained good friends.

He got along with most of the guys on the team. Keane and Merrick had been the exception, mostly from their dirty plays but they were also largely unpleasant. They weren’t exactly a pair going to be missed in this trade.

As he got ready he noticed chatter falter slightly. It didn’t go silent but the air was definitely different.

Against his better judgement he looked over his shoulder and saw di Genova walk into the locker room. He was dressed in a pretty bland suit, the kind of suit Joe thought of when players weren’t trying to put in any effort. Joe liked to play with all kinds of different outfits since it was the only time he felt he could have any sense of self expression. There weren’t many opportunities for personal style for public appearances as a player and he liked to achieve it through the mandatory suit dress code.

He had never known di Genova to be one to dress well. The times he was dressed in something that wasn’t suit, for a game or Toronto gear tended to be a bland t-shirt and jeans. It made sense, boring clothes for a boring guy.

Joe looked away and whoever had stopped talking resumed as di Genova probably started to get ready. He didn’t even hear a general greeting to the room from him as he got dressed.

They had practiced more on the same line and so far it had been mostly okay. If okay meant they weren’t getting into fights. Joe had scored on Lykon with di Genova giving him an assist so Joe hoped that meant he didn’t hog the puck for the actual game where stats mattered.

When all the guys had arrived Copley came in for a pep talk. Joe had always liked Copley as a coach. He’d grown up a Montreal fan and was trained to hate Boston on principle but he had always loved Copley as a player. Seeing any non-white players was an assurance that one day he could make it to the NHL too.

And he was a pretty great coach.

They were sent to line up for player introductions. The roar of the crowd could be heard from where they were standing. He grinned from the back of the line, nudging Booker behind him.

“What do you think? Is this our year?” Joe said to Booker as players named started to be called.

“Of course. We’re a great team.”

The line continued one by one. The enthusiasm of the crowd varied depending on which player. Lykon and the backup goalie got some of the biggest.

He knew it was coming but the deafening crowd that followed di Genova being called was still an annoyance. Sometimes it didn’t matter if you came from a rival team if you were a popular player.

Joe was the second to last person on the ice. The crowd roared at his name. He smiled as he joined the circle, looking up to the crowd of black jerseys.

The game started off okay. Florida was a tough team but he enjoyed playing against them. Booker was on defence with him on the starting line and he was great at stopping the other players from getting in his way. Joe had gotten a least a couple of shots but not goal yet.

It was close to the end of the first period of a scoreless game when things didn’t go their way.

He saw di Genova get slammed into the boards. Booker was making his way over to help him while Joe stayed back to take a pass. They were in Florida’s zone and if they kept the puck there he was sure he could get a goal.

He watched clear as day as di Genova tried to use his shoulder to shove the Florida player out of the way only for him to receive a swat back. The swat didn’t touch him but it seemed to be enough for di Genova’s gloved fist to meet the Florida players face.

As they started to fight Booker was the first there to push the Florida player away. He was a lot more gentle than the Florida player who violently shoved di Genova to the boards.

All Joe could do was watch as di Genova made his way to the penalty box. It was a familiar sight but not one he particularly liked to see from the other side.

“What is his issue?” Joe muttered under his breath as he made his way to the bench.

Florida scored on the power play which was enough for Joe to glare at the penalty box. di Genova was sat in there with the same expressionless look on his face. He didn’t even have a hint of the frustration or even embarrassment of other players. If he weren’t separated from the team you could mistake him for waiting for his next shift.

Florida’s power play was vicious so Joe hadn’t been surprised they’d scored while he was forced to watch. Their penalty kill unit was good but sometimes it just wasn’t good enough. di Genova had been put on the penalty kill so if anyone else on the team had been stupid enough to end up in the penalty box he would be out there trying to give them a fighting chance.

di Genova’s penalty ended and Joe went back to the ice for the shift change. Before he could even get sight of the puck he hears the whistle and a call for icing on Ottawa.

He looked at the ref before his eyes landed on di Genova.

“Was that you?” he asked.

di Genova kept the stone face. “Too quick, sorry. “

He huffed as he went to stand in position while di Genova went to stand in the face off position in Florida’s zone.

The first period finally ended with a 0-1 for Florida.

While in the locker room, Joe refilled his water bottle and soaked himself with it before patting himself down with his towel. He’d taken off his helmet and he let his curls bounced as he let water hit it.

Booker was a few feet away looking particularly smug.

“What’s that look for?” Joe asked, wiping some dripping water from his jawline.

“I just earned a good pool,” he said, flashing a white grin. “Me and some of the guys did a bet on how long it would take for Nova to end up in the penalty box.”

Joe didn’t hold back a snort as he glanced to where di Genova was sat alone. He looked focussed, like he was doing some kind of breathing exercises. Maybe he had to do that to force himself to not do anything to land in the box.

He should’ve put something in, he probably could’ve put his whole salary for the year on him landing in the box in the first period.

“I much preferred it being on the other end.”

During the second period they were able to tie the game and di Genova didn’t land himself in the penalty box again. Joe was the one who scored with an assist from Booker. di Genova hadn’t even given him so much of a pat on the back while the rest of the guys on the ice flung their arms around him.

The score went up to 2-1 for Ottawa when he was off his shift. He couldn’t help but glance at di Genova as the rest of the team cheered. di Genova kept silent, keeping a tight grip on his hockey stick. He did at least give his teammate a fist-bump when he passed the bench.

There’d been plenty of guys who were on the team for one season. Anything from guys juggled from team to team for short contract to guys playing a few games from the AHL to cover an injury. He was pretty sure he had never seen a player look completely indifferent about a lead.

During the second intermission Joe had an interview. He gave them the boring answers they liked before taking the headphones off at the first chance he got.

di Genova was back in the same corner he had been before. He was sat down, drinking water. If Joe looked long enough he could see he was slightly rocking back and forth.

He looked away and went back to his own routine. The goal was to keep their lead and get at least get a two point gap. It should be easy enough if they stayed focussed.

It took two minutes for everything to go wrong.

During the third period, he was following di Genova as he chased after the puck that had entered their zone. A Florida player had the puck and di Genova was trying to get it back. Joe stayed behind enough to intercept a pass if the opportunity came.

Before it could come he watched as di Genova’s stick went high as he came close to the player and—

The whistle blew and di Genova was sent to the box for crosschecking.

He could only gape as di Genova made his way to the box. When Joe looked back at the player he had crosschecked he almost slammed his stick to the ice at the sight of red on his face.

The game was still at 2-1 when he sat down and during the four minutes both he and di Genova were forced to sit and watch, Florida scored. He gritted his teeth and pressed his forehead to his stick.

Things got worse quickly. They were in the Florida zone and Joe made a pass to di Genova only for a Florida player to intercept. He swore and chased after the player and puck. The player was fast and managed to make a breakaway. He scored with a slap-shot over Lykon’s shoulder.

He could only watch in dread as the Florida team cheered. Lykon looked disappointed in himself as he squirted water onto his face.

The game stayed at 2-3 for the rest of the game until Lykon was pulled so Ottawa could get an extra attacker. Joe was on the ice with di Genova, Booker, and three of their other teammates. He hated playing when they had an empty net. He would always have to stop himself from glancing at their net as it was left defenceless.

His worry proved to be sound when a Florida player took the risk and when he got the puck, slapped it right towards the empty net. Joe scrambled after it but it landed in the net with ease.

They played the rest of the game in a sludge. Sometimes being behind would inspire players to try harder but a two point lead and less than two minutes left didn’t really cause the team to have hope.

The game ending felt like a blessing and he left the ice and the stadium of disappointed fans.

He was the first one to the locker room. He started to take of his gear as calmly as he could while the room filled around him. It was a loss, it was part of the game. But he could pick out a number of ways it wouldn’t have gone as bad as it had.

And the number one reason walked into the locker room like he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Before he could think rationally he charged right towards di Genova and used his hand to push him by the shoulder and slam him into the wall. di Genova grunted as his back hit it with a thud.

“Do you just have some kind of punishment kink?”

di Genova actually gaped at him for that, blinking a few times. He wasn’t fighting his hold. “Excuse me?” His voice wasn’t angry, there was a slight squeak to it as if the question felt like a punch in the stomach. Joe ignored it.

“Do you enjoy sitting in the box or something? You got in there twice and both were preventable!”

di Genova actually rolled his eyes at that. “And here I thought it was all part of the game. If me ending up in the penalty box is so detrimental then maybe work on your defence.”

“Our defence. Because you play here now. As much as you clearly don’t want to be. I’m sorry you got traded but some of us actually care about this team.”

Booker was the one to finally step between them. “Okay boys, keep your pants on.” He put the back of his hands on either of their chests. The comment only made di Genova give him a harder look. “Calm down and shower, it was one loss.”

Joe clenched his jaw but stepped away. di Genova stared him down for a few seconds before walking away.

After showering Joe did his post game interviews. The shower had calmed him down enough that he was able to get his mind off of di Genova. Interviews weren’t Joe’s favourite thing in the world, mostly because they were extremely monotonous. There was only so much you could say after a loss.

The press were far more interested in di Genova. It was predictable, they always wanted to talk to star players after major trades and after the game he had played the press would be after him like wild dogs.

Despite that, he did beat Joe back to the locker room to change into their suits. Joe wasn’t too surprised, the guy famously gave barely more than a sentence to the press. Some people would joke that he was media trained too well and didn’t even want to say too many words.

As Joe started to change he noticed one of the defenders tap di Genova on the shoulder while he was tying his tie. “Hey Nova, your girlfriend and her friend are looking for you.”

There was a flicker across di Genova face that showed he clearly didn’t appreciate the nickname. Joe could sympathise, he’d been straddled with plenty of unpleasant nicknames in his career.

“Neither are my girlfriend but thanks, I’ll text them,” di Genova said.

“Ah, okay. Was your girlfriend back in Toronto?”

It was a clear attempt at polite conversation, maybe even a reach for friendship. Ottawa as a locker room culture was pretty good. They all got along and everyone genuinely wanted to make friends with each other. Rookies, trades and AHL fills were always welcomed with open arms. Joe knew the same courtesy would be extended to di Genova despite their history.

di Genova clearly didn’t want to make any friends. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” It wasn’t a particularly aggressive response nor was it annoyed. It was a weird hollow factual statement. Which Joe could guess it was but the undertone that he had said it annoyed the hell out of him.

“Ah man, really? Well we can always help you out there. We go out to bars a lot.”

Joe eyed di Genova for his response. He only gave him a shrug and went to his stall to get his things.

He left the locker room, leaving the defenceman to just stare in his wake. There were still a few guys in the room still half or mostly dressed.

The defenceman blew through his lips. “Okay, yeah, he’s a real piece of work.”

Joe snorted at that but he didn’t comment any further before finishing to get ready to leave.

The plane was about as loud as you would guess it would be when you shoved a large group of athletes into a small space.

Nicky kept his headphone on as he read his book. He’d developed the skill to read while listening to music from long bus rides in juniors.

They were flying to Seattle for their first away game. They had two more games after it before flying back to Ottawa. Nicky wasn’t the biggest fan of away games, mostly due to how demanding the time difference can be. Playing against west teams was probably the worst. He liked to get as much rest done during the plane rides.

He hadn’t made much of an effort to make friends. A few of the guys had been nice but he didn’t go beyond the regular friendliness. They seemed like a tight knit group. He hoped there was no resentment for him being someone who replaced one of their star players. He had been added to the teams group chat but he just muted it and didn’t contribute anything. He had done the same to the Toronto group chat.

The first game had been a true disaster. Between a shoddy defence and his line-mates giving him bad passes it was hard to stop the impending implosion. And to make things worse, Al-Kaysani yelled at him in front of everyone again.

Nicky didn’t personally regret ending up in the box. If the team was so much worse off without one player that wasn’t his fault. Florida had a good power play and it was on them to have a good penalty kill. Nicky was sure he could whip it into shape when he wasn’t the one in the box.

Yet Al-Kaysani still felt the need to scold him like it would make a difference to the game.

Nicky was nothing but ready to make nice with him, if Al-Kaysani would stop taking every chance to yell at him. The shove after the game told him that it was going to be difficult. And Nicky wasn’t going to be the bigger person when a guy was treating him like crap.

He didn’t have this issue on Toronto. Probably because their penalty kill was compitent and they could handle him taking a few penalties. Or maybe he still had status as the beloved first overall pick and a veteran that no one really wanted to confront him about it. People had found his penalty box habit almost endearing during his rookie year, like he was an over excited puppy who couldn’t stay out of trouble.

Al-Kaysani was different, he had never taken anything from him. Maybe that was why he had taken it upon himself to confront him about his minutes. It was like he had forgotten he had ended up in the box plenty of times before at the result of their tussles.

He finished his book before the plane had landed. He decide to take off his headphones just to see what the rest of the plane was doing.

When he looked over his chair he saw some guys playing cards in the corner, some guys in their seats sleeping or watching movies. His eyes landed on Al-Kaysani where he sat drawing in a sketchbook. He vaguely remembered him doing the same during World Juniors. Nicky wondered if he was any good. A lot of guys didn’t have much hobbies outside of hockey, golfing or some variation of gambling.

He settled back into his chair and closed his eyes to nap before the plane landed.

The game was another complete disaster.

Nicky wasn’t going to take all of the responsibility. He had landed in the penalty box a couple times — first for roughing, again for grabbing an opponents stick by accident — but the defence wasn’t playing their best. Lykon was mostly fending for himself, waiting for his defensemen to come to his aid.

Booker was by far their best defenceman. He was about seven years older than Nicky. Thirty-five was a mix of respectable experience but a lot of backhanded comments from commentators debating when his retirement was coming. The rest of the defence were definitely good enough but for whatever reason they couldn’t keep it up during the penalty kill.

The game ended at 4-1 for Seattle. They walked off the ice and Copley came in to give a talk. Nicky listened respectfully but changed the first chance he got. He hoped the post game interviews were short enough that he wouldn’t have to suffer too long.

Al-Kaysani seemed to decide against confronting him again. He barely even looked at him after the game. Nicky took it and changed into an Ottawa t-shirt to go and deal with the press.

Two losses in a row were a sting and it only started to get a bit better when Joe made it to the hotel.

Some of the guys had gone out drinking for the night but Joe had decided to stay in his room. This would be the kind of road trip location he might let off steam to go to a gay bar. Seattle was still a new team and he used that to his advantage. He never felt completely safe but the less popular hockey was in a city the more comfortable he felt taking a chance. Most people would probably be respectful enough to not out him if he was recognised but he never felt completely safe when going out. Sometimes a win would boost his confidence.

Tonight though, he was more than happy to anguish in his misery.

He had played badly that game. He couldn’t even put it all on di Genova landing in the penalty box again. They had gotten a power play that game and Joe had blown it. He took multiple shots at the net and they were either saved or he hit the post with a loud clink. One of the rookies had managed to get a goal, which was what the rest of the team was celebrating.

It didn’t make things better. They had two games in California next and Joe wasn’t sure if he could handle even one more loss.

How the hell did Toronto even win any games with di Genova? Sure, he was a good player but if he was a better line mate surely they could work out a few points. Joe was too good at letting him get under his skin and it ruining their chemistry on the ice. If it continued there might be permanent changes to the lines. He saw di Genova’s contract, he was being paid more than him meaning once again, Joe would be negatively affected so a franchise could suite him.

He pressed his lips together as he sat on his bed. He’d tried distracting himself by watching a show he’d been meaning to watch but his mind kept straying away. Mostly to thoughts of di Genova.

As he sat there a thought crossed his mind. It was so abrupt it surprised him. But it was an idea of how to keep him out of the penalty box that… well, it might not work but it was an idea.

He shot Booker a text asking if he knew what room number di Genova was in.

Booker: I better not find his dead body tomorrow.

He sent the room number right after. He stood up and walked down the hall to his room before he lost his nerve.

When Joe reached his door, he stood on the other side of the door for a few moments before he knocked his fist on the door.

Chapter Text

9 months ago

Joe steadied his cue, his tongue between his teeth, and hit the cue ball. It narrowly missed the ball he was aiming for, causing him to curse under his breath.

Moose, an All-Star forward from Vancouver, laughed. “Nice try.”

“Ha ha,” Joe gave flatly and straightened up as Moose took position. “Let’s see how it goes for you.”

It ended up going well for Moose as he hit the cue ball, the last of his balls landing into the nets. This time Joe cursed louder.

“Tsk, tsk, language, Joe,” he teased. “This rounds on you.”

“Yeah I’ve got it but I’m still not drinking anymore tonight. I don’t want to be hungover for the game tomorrow.”

Moose gave him a mock salute as Joe made his way to the bar. Moose was already calling over someone to play with him for the next game.

It was All-Star weekend which most of the players saw as a good chance to socialise rather than an event that must be taken seriously. Joe fell into that camp. He didn’t hate it as much as the other guys but he would rather spend the time relaxing with his real friends or playing real hockey games. He never did say no to it though, he did really enjoyed the socialising aspect.

He ordered a round of drinks. He’d meant it when he said he wasn’t drinking anymore. He hated being hung over for games, even ones as meaningless as All-Stars. A few years ago he’d let go enough to get drunk before a game and had promptly embarrassed himself during the game by tripping almost immediately after receiving a pass that should’ve lead to a goal. He remembered di Genova rolling his eyes at him, clearly regretting not passing to the other guy.

di Genova was the only player who wasn’t at the bar. A pretty typical action of his. He usually never left his hotel room between events. The only difference that year was that they were in Toronto so he could go and curl up at home.

Joe didn’t understand why he always said yes to going when he clearly resented the entire experience. Most guys were happy for the break and spent it with their friends and wife or girlfriend. Surely di Genova would rather be doing the same, especially if he had a girlfriend.

Despite his absence, there were players from Toronto at the bar. They’d been invited by friends and former teammates. That was pretty typical for whatever city they were in. Although they were usually invited out by their All-Star teammate.

He hadn’t really seen much of di Genova all weekend. They’d participated in different skills competitions that day and the game was tomorrow. It was the typical division teams that year and they were going to have to play nice as line-mates yet again. Once the time ran out they would go back to only having to interact at games.

He pushed di Genova from his mind. He wanted to enjoy what was left of the weekend. He went back to the pool table to watch Moose likely embarrass the San Jose rookie chalking up his cue stick.

Joe turned up to the arena early enough to use the gym. He’d thought about using the hotel gym but it was lacking in equipment. At this time the arena’s gym should be quiet enough for him to use in peace. There might be some players already there but he’d rather that over strangers.

He got to the gym and made his way towards an exercise bike. There was already someone there warming up on a treadmill. He glanced over and realised it was di Genova.

His back was to him so he hadn’t seen him come in. That gave him the chance to leave if he wanted to.

He decided against it. He could stand to be in a gym for a little while with him. They could easily ignore each other.

He got on the bike and started to warmup. He lasted about two minutes before he looked at di Genova again.

He’d seen di Genova sweaty before so it shouldn’t do anything for him. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him in a tank top. He could picture in his mind how it clung to him…

He pushed that thought from his mind and focussed his eyes on the handlebars. A weird place to look but at least it wasn’t at di Genova. Or di Genova’s ass.

He exercised for maybe ten more minutes before he realised there was a body over him. He looked up, still working his legs, and saw di Genova hovering over him like a weirdo.

His brain didn’t do him justice. His tank top clung to him by the sweat and there was strands of hair stuck to his forehead. He looked like he had squirted water on himself to cool down although his face was still a bit red from exertion. Joe kept his eyes locked on his until he realised his hand was shaking.

He looked down and saw a water bottle.

“You still forget to bring water?”

Embarrassed, Joe took the bottle. He squired the water into his mouth, enjoying the relief. “How do you even remember that?” During World Juniors he’d almost always forgotten to take a bottle of water to the gym. It was a habit he’d never truly been able to kick.

“I pay attention I guess.”

This felt weird. Joe couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a conversation. Their last interaction was a few weeks ago when di Genova had checked him into the boards and scored after stealing the puck. Joe remembering grumbling before getting off his shift, getting an earful from Keane about letting him take the puck.

“You skipped the bar last night,” Joe decided to say. He wasn’t sure why, it had come out like an accusation. He wasn’t sure what he was even accusing him of.

di Genova stared back at him like he’d asked a complicated math question. Joe handed the bottle back to him and he took it. “Not a bar person?” Joe asked.

di Genova stared at him long enough to make Joe feel stupid for asking. Eventually he said, “No it’s just…” he trailed off. “It’s not like I’m friends with any of these guys. I don’t like pretending I am so it’s just better to go home.”

Joe quietly wondered if he had any friends. Surely he had to. He hadn’t seen him talking to anyone during the events but it was possible they were busy.

“None of your teammates called you up to come? Some came last night.”

di Genova just shrugged.

In the silence, Joe’s eyes stupidly went down di Geova’s body. He really just wanted to break the uncomfortable eye contact but his eyes lingered longer than he’d meant to. di Genova had always been frustratingly hot. It had been especially annoying when they were teenagers and he hadn’t fully figured himself out yet. That on top of his dislike for the guy. di Genova’s attractiveness had always been something he just accepted as a reality, one he could mostly ignore and focus on his game.

But his eyes had never lingered this long and…

Fuck, he was definitely checking him out and when he looked back to di Genova’s eyes there was a hint of surprise in his eyes.

He could handle a punch from di Genova on the ice but in the middle of a gym wasn’t something he wanted to experience.

di Genova was the one to break the silence. “You excited about the game today?”

When Joe realised he wasn’t going to have worry about losing teeth, he nodded. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how he had been looking at him. “Sure, these games are fun.”

di Genova snorted. “You enjoy things easily. I think most of the guys just see it as a big social event.”

“It kind of is. It’s why people go out.” It was petty to be so pointed but Joe couldn’t help himself. He could never figure this guy out for as long as he had known him.

di Genova’s jaw clenched slightly and didn’t say anything.

Joe stood there awkwardly. He was still sweaty after exercising and truthfully he wasn’t done. He wanted to do some weight lifting before he had to start getting ready for the game.

Before he could say as much, di Genova’s eye drifted down his body, lingering for a few seconds before meeting his eye again.

Joe’s mouth felt like cotton as they stared at each other. He was way too aware of his breathing as sweat from anything but exercise prickled on his forehead.

The door to the gym opened. di Genova seemed to use that as a chance to step away, walking to where the showers were.

His eyes turned to who had entered the gym. It was a goalie from Boston Joe couldn’t remember the name of in that moment. “Hey Al-Kaysani. You ready for the game?”

Joe nodded, not trusting his voice.

He looked back to where the showers lead. He’d realised two things in that moment and he didn’t know which horrified him more: di Genova had noticed he was checking him out. And instead of knocking his teeth out di Genova had looked back.

The cold water hit Nicky’s body but he didn’t move from the spray. He kept his eyes closed, feeling the water hit his face and roll down his back.

Nicky wasn’t sure why he put up with All-Star games every year. He told himself it was something to do but he’d never really enjoyed it all that much. He was surrounded by people he didn’t know or particularly liked. At least with his team he was comfortable and familiar with them, even if he’d kept to himself.

He’d been glad to hear that All-Stars was in Toronto that year. He hated staying at the hotel with the rest of the players. Getting to go home after events was enough time for him to recharge away from everyone else. He’d glanced at his team’s group chat to see discussion about going out to the bar. A lot of his teammates were spending times with their family or partner. He was sure multiple would come home engaged.

The game was that day and he’d used that time to exercise at the arena. He liked to do it on game days and it was nice and quiet. He was usually the first one there.

The sight of Al-Kaysani walking in had not been exactly welcome.

Despite what those on social media and the wider hockey world might think, he didn’t hate the guy per se. Yes, Nicky had a habit of chirping him a bit too hard and he let himself get into fights with him more often than he should but that didn’t translate to hate. He took pity on the idiot for still forgetting to bring water when exercising. Not an olive branch, just general pleasantries you should give someone before you’re about to play on the same line as them.

Then Al-Kaysani put him on the spot and pointed out the obvious fact that Nicky didn’t have friends on his team. The awkward silence would’ve been bad enough if Al-Kaysani hadn’t used that awkwardness to very blatantly check him out.

Nicky wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t the only closeted guy in the whole league. Hell there was probably more than a few, none brave enough to be the first slapped with the Gay Hockey Player label. Nicky sure as hell didn’t want to be the first. It just had never occurred to him that Al-Kaysani might be in the club.

Nicky couldn’t tell if it had been an accident or not but before he could think it through, his eyes looked down Al-Kaysani’s body.

He’d always quietly thought Al-Kaysani was hot. While the man got on his nerves Nicky couldn’t deny a good body and nice face when he saw it. He just had never openly looked. Hockey players gave friendly cheek kisses and hugged after scoring but you never let your eyes drift in a way that indicated anything that wasn’t platonic.

Yet they both had done it and now Nicky had to use the ice water to stop his mind from drifting to places it shouldn’t in a gym. Or anywhere near Al-Kaysani. On the bright side, after this game he wouldn’t see him again until March. He could just forget the exchange had ever happened. It was always possible Al-Kaysani hadn’t noticed. Unlikely but still possible. It’s not like they would ever act on it.

No, they’d both just had a lapse in judgement and nothing else.

The game was setup so the Atlantic division played against the Pacific division. The score was tied at 1-1. Nicky hadn’t had the chance to score.

Nicky did his best to focus on having fun. Al-Kaysani always seemed to be having the time of his life during these games.

They were in the Pacific zone and Al-Kaysani had the puck. Nicky stayed close. He was open which Al-Kaysani used the chance to pass the puck to him. Nicky saw a clear shot and used the as an opportunity for a wrist shot, getting right between the goalie’s legs.

He pumped his arms in the air before his other line-mate patted his back. It was a low stakes game and they weren’t his real teammates so it did lack the passion. Al-Kaysani seemed willing enough to wordless slap his shoulder before skating away.

The goal gave them the win after the Pacific team didn’t score for the rest of the game.

And just like that, All-Star Weekend was over.

Everyone went back to the locker room to shower and change. Most of the guys would be flying home tomorrow to play in their real upcoming games. Some guys still went out but not everyone if they had an early flight.

Even with the win his plan was to go straight home. His next game wasn’t for two more days. He was going to use that time to be in his own space. Andy and Quýnh were still in Ottawa for the first PWHL season. He hadn’t seen them since he’d last played the Sens before an embarrassing loss. He was a bit lonely without their presence but they’d been planning to catch up over the summer.

Nicky was tying his tie when Al-Kaysani approached him fully dressed.

“Nice goal,” Al-Kaysani said.

Nicky eyed him warily. The guys around them seemed too preoccupied in their own conversations or getting out of the locker room as fast as possible to pay them any mind.

“Nice assist,” Nicky said. It was a good pass and a testament to the fact that when they could get over themselves they played well together.

Al-Kaysani nodded slowly. “So… were you just heading home after this?”

“Yeah. It’s what’s nice about the games being here this year.”

“Cool.”

Nicky thought it was over after that. He wasn’t sure why he was insisting on any awkward small talk when they were close to being rid of each other again.

“I’m staying at the hotel.”

Nicky stared back at him. “Good for you?”

Al-Kaysani opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “My room number is 1099.”

Nicky surprised himself for being able to keep his face in control. “Okay. Were you planning to go out tonight?”

“Nah. I’ll stay in. I’ll definitely be there at 9 tonight.”

The offer was there if Nicky wanted to take it. And truly, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have checked Al-Kaysani out in the gym either. He’d gotten a little too bold after he had done it first. For all the years he had known him, he wouldn’t have ever expected it from him.

Nicky shouldn’t take it but goddamnit, it had been too long since he’d had sex. He half wondered if Al-Kaysani was at all in the same boat and that was why he was offering it the first chance he’d gotten. As if they were meeting in a club and not in a place surrounded by their hockey player coworkers.

“Funnily enough the hotel is on my way home.”

It wasn’t but there wasn’t much else he could say to insinuate to Al-Kaysani he understood what he was saying and he was picking up the offer.

Al-Kaysani gave a small nod before turning around to leave. Nicky could only watch him as he stood to consider what had just happened.

When Joe got back to his hotel room he took a shower, brushed his teeth, flossed and used mouthwash.

After he spat the mouthwash down the sink he stared at himself in the mirror, trying his best to not completely lose his cool.

Why had he said that? Why did he invite di Genova to his room?

Joe wasn’t exactly someone who was desperate for sex. Yes, he liked sex and was happy to seek it out when he could but he could get by without it. It was what made his aversion to seeking it out most of the time bearable.

Maybe he just wanted to jump at the chance after di Genova had clearly looked back. Maybe he was riding on them having a good game together. Maybe a part of him had wanted to slam him against a wall — or the boards — and get his mouth all over him for a long time.

And maybe he’d thought there was no way he’d say yes.

It was almost 9 and Joe was pacing his room. He’d tidied it up a bit but he wasn’t exactly prepared. He should have some lube or condoms in his suitcase for the times he’d needed them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used that stash.

At 9 on the dot there was a knock at his door. He walked over and looked through the peephole to see di Genova.

He opened the door and di Genova walked in. He was dressed as boring as usual. It was snowing in Toronto so he was still wearing his coat and beanie, the snow already dusted off. He closed the door and turned back to him, taking off his beanie and shaking his hair out. He hung the beanie on the nearby coatrack.

Joe couldn’t stop himself. “You actually came?”

di Genova somehow looked completely calm. He must be great a poker, Joe could almost never read his expression. The exchange earlier that day in the gym had been a rare time he’d had a clear read on him. “I can’t say I always make the best choices.”

di Genova stepped closer and tilted his head. “You smell nice.”

A shiver went up his spine. “It’s from that brand Roja. Stupid expensive.”

“Good thing you’re a millionaire.”

Before Joe could even think of a response to the snark, di Genova’s thumb and forefinger touched his chin. Joe was a tiny bit taller than him but somehow di Genova made himself seem like he was towering over him. When had he gotten so close?

Their lips met and Joe forgot what he was annoyed about.

Joe put his fingers in his hair. It had a little length to it, enough for Joe to run his fingers through it. He moaned lightly at the feeling of his stubble as he stuck his tongue into his mouth.

He could feel himself getting hard in his pants as di Genova pressed him to the door. di Genova was a crazy good kisser, Joe was practically melting on the spot. They’d have to get to the bed soon or he might collapse to the floor.

He gripped di Genova’s coat and helped him pull it off. He heard it hit the floor as it slipped from his fingers.

di Genova bit his lips and Joe moaned against his mouth. He undid Joe’s pants and stuck his hand down his pants, lightly stroking him.

“For the record,” he said against his mouth as di Genova panted against him. “I still think you’re a dick.”

di Genova pulled back slightly and raised his brow at him. “Noted.” He gave his cock a hard stroke and Joe gasped before letting out another moan, tilting his head back with his head hitting the door.

“Bed,” Joe breathed out as di Genova’s lips brushed against his neck.

They moved to the bed, their shirts coming off on the way. di Genova was on top of him, pressing their hips together while they kissed. He could feel how hard he was through his pants. Joe’s own pants had come off at some point of getting to the bed. He tugged on di Genova’s pants. di Genova pulled away.

“Are you always this impatient?”

“Do you always talk to your hookups like this?”

“Do you always call yours dicks?”

He couldn’t think of a retort so he just palmed him through his pants. di Genova gasped, arching his back.

“Sensitive?” he teased.

“Fuck off.”

di Genova’s pants came off, kicking them to the floor, leaving him in only his underwear. Their crotches brushed against each other through their underwear, enough to make Joe moan. di Genova didn’t tease him back for being sensitive, instead he pressed his hips down. Maybe that was payback enough for him.

di Genova’s thumbs hooked under the waistband of his underwear and he tugged them down. Joe lifted his ass to help him. His underwear got tossed aside and di Genova wrapped his hand around his cock.

di Genova pressed his lips across his jaw as he stroked him. “Wanna suck you.”

Joe let out a moan as he pressed his thumb to the head of his cock. “I’ve got condoms in my suitcase. Cherry flavoured.”

He felt a small laugh from him, his hot breath fanning against his skin. “Prepared.”

“More like just in case. Make sure they’re not expired. They’re in the front pocket.”

The few moments he was gone was cold. He heard the zipper and soon enough he was back with a couple condoms. He tore open one and placed the spare on the night stand.

“They’re in date,” di Genova said although his tone was teasing. “Don’t usually bring people back to your hotel?”

“Not really.” It was true, he’d only brought up guys to the hotel if they had roommates or lived with family but a lot of the time they would go back to theirs or just go to the clubs bathroom. He definitely didn’t bring men to his own place, not that he would pull out his emergency suitcase condoms in those situations.

di Genova slipped on the condom slowly. Joe couldn’t tell if he was just being careful or if he wanted to tease him again.

“Good thing they’re flavoured.”

“Yeah, plain latex tastes gross.”

Instead of shooting back another snarky response, he wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. Joe gasped, trying to not push his hips forward. He liked a good, slow blow job and he won’t complain if that was what he wanted to go for.

di Genova sank further down on him, doing something with his tongue that made his eyes roll to the back of his head. di Genova’s fingers were tailing his abs, causing Joe to bury his fingers in his hair.

His cock hit the back of his throat and he felt di Genova swallow around it. Joe swore, one of his hands gripping the sheets to stop himself from pulling di Genova’s hair.

“S-stop, I don’t want to come yet.”

di Genova lifted off his cock, his mouth making a pop. His pale eyes looked up at him and it was somehow the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “What do you want?”

“Suck you.”

di Genova seemed more than happy to comply. They changed positions, Joe grabbing the other condom. He took the opportunity to really look at him.

His hair was lighter than his own so the body hair wasn’t as noticeable. His body was well defined although that was to be expected. His nipples were perked up and there was a glaze of sweat over his abs. The hair around his cock appeared to be well maintained and trimmed. Unlike Joe, there was foreskin wrapped snuggly around the head of his cock.

He tore open the packet and slid the condom onto his cock. di Genova gasped with a small moan at just that contact. Joe bit his lip. He ducked down to di Genova and kissed him as he lightly stroked him. He moaned into his mouth, reaching up for more contact. Joe pulled back, brushing their lips together before moving back down.

His lips only had to brush the head to make him gasp. Joe quietly thought what he must be like when there’s nothing between the skin and the touch.

He slowly brought him deeper in his mouth, running his tongue against him. Even just his breathing was so hot to hear. It was shallow and accompanied by small moans. He’s not sure he’d even seen him so relaxed.

He pulled off his cock and moved his mouth to the side, running his tongue along it. He looked up at di Genova, seeing his hand resting on his stomach as it raised and fell. His other hand was gripping the sheets underneath him.

di Genova’s eyes turned down to looked at him. His eyes narrowed at him. “If you call me sensitive again I’m getting up and leaving.”

“Always assuming the worst,” Joe tsked.

“No that’s you— fuck.”

Joe had swallowed his cock back into his mouth, putting just enough pressure to make him feel good but not enough where he would come into his mouth instantly. His own cock was aching against his leg as pre come trickled into the condom. He still didn’t want to come so he did his best to not let any friction come into contact with it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, hold on.”

Joe slid off him and looked up at him with a raised brow.

“Come back up here,” he said, turning to his side.

Joe slid up next to him. He half expected him to kiss him again but instead di Genova pressed closed to him so their cocks brushed together. Joe hissed at the contact as di Genova reached down and clasped his hand around both of their cocks.

“Shit,” Joe gasped, his fingers gripping into di Genova ridiculously broad shoulders as di Genova stroked both of them in one hand. He pressed his head into his shoulder as he worked both of them up. He could feel di Genova’s hot breath fanning against his skin.

His teeth dug into di Genova shoulder as he felt himself getting closer. The hiss that turned into a moan that came from di Genova almost sent him over the edge completely.

di Genova pressed his nose to his cheek which made Joe turn his head. Their hot mouths met again and Joe stuck his tongue into his mouth. di Genova moaned into his mouth, quickening his pace. The faint taste of synthetic cherry was still on his tongue.

They didn’t kiss for too long, mostly because they were both panting as they both reached their orgasms.

di Genova dropped his hand and they both of them rolled onto their backs. Their panting was the only sound in the room.

Joe felt like he was going to get absorbed into the mattress. That was somehow one of the best orgasms he’d ever had. Or maybe he should go out to hook up more.

He felt the weight of the bed shift and for one moment the logical part of his brain that was still working panicked that di Genova was going to come closer to him.

Instead, he got off the bed, probably to get dressed. Joe continued to stare at the ceiling, completely naked, his cock softening in the condom. Gross, he needed to toss it in the trashcan.

He heard the sound of something hitting the trashcan — probably di Genova’s condom — and shuffling around the room. He pushed himself to sit up and watch as di Genova got dressed.

Seeing Nicolò di Genova in the afterglow of his orgasm was a sight he was never meant to see. How did a man he was already ridiculously and unwillingly attracted to even more attractive? From the broad shoulders to his thick thighs. And his ass…

He needed to get a clear head. The side of his brain that was logical was trying to fight this losing battle. It had already lost but he wasn’t ready to admit defeat.

“This never happened,” Joe said. His voice came out firm and definitely like an asshole. But that was what he had to do because it shouldn’t have ever gotten this far. He should’ve let that passing attraction go by and they would return to the only physicality between them being the punches they exchanged on the ice. Like good goddamn hockey players.

di Genova looked up at him after adjusting the sweater he had just put on. “Fair enough,” he said nonchalantly. Which somehow made him seem like a bigger asshole than Joe.

“I mean it, this was stupid.”

The dramatic eye roll that followed made Joe want to throw him off the balcony. “Don’t worry, I won’t be bragging to my friends about the lay.”

Joe gritted his teeth and stood up from the bed. He was still naked but he didn’t care. “What the hell is that meant to mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot but I don’t exactly want to be associated with you pleasantly.”

“Like I’d want to be associated with you? You know that half the internet hates you right? You’re a dirty ass player and have the most penalty minutes this season for a reason.”

“You think I care about the internet?” He screwed his face, not in a mocking way but in a way that made Joe realise he truly didn’t care.

He opened his mouth for a comeback but goddamn, he hated that he had a point. He took a deep breath, turning his head to the ceiling.

“I mean it. Don’t tell anyone.” He let the sincerity creep into his voice and from the look on di Genova’s face he understood.

“I won’t. I wasn’t. And… you’re right, we can pretend this never happened.” He gave a nod. “See you on the ice.”

Joe gave a nod. di Genova grabbed his coat and beanie ad opened the door. He poked his head out before stepping through and closing it behind him.

Joe took another shower to wash off the regret.

Chapter Text

Spending the night holed up in a hotel may not be everyones idea of a good time but it was what Nicky needed.

When the team got to the hotel he’d changed into more comfortable clothes. He always tore off his suit the first chance he had. He was in bed in nothing more than stretched out tracksuit pants and no shirt. He was more than happy to be in his bed than down at the bar feigning friendship with his teammates.

“I hate playing here,” Nicky said to his phone, his back against the propped up pillow.

Andy and Quýnh stared back at him on the screen. Andy looked ready to roll her eyes while Quýnh looked at least a little sympathetic. “It’s not that bad. We watched your games,” Quýnh said.

Seattle being three hours behind Ottawa meant that Andy and Quýnh were forced to stay up late for the game. He had thought they had gone to bed but about an hour after the game he’d gotten a text from Andy asking him if he was able to facetime.

“We lost to Seattle.”

“Okay? Could be worse,” Andy said. “That wasn’t all on you.”

“That’s the problem. Their defence sucks.”

“‘Our’ Nicky. You’re on the team,” Andy said.

He stopped himself from saying Al-Kaysani had told him the same thing after their last game. He hadn’t told Andy and Quýnh Al-Kaysani had yelled at him in front of the entire team again. He didn’t want to make it sound like he was having an entirely miserable time.

As if somewhat reading his mind, Quýnh said, “Al-Kaysani played bad too. That power play was pathetic.”

Nicky thought back to the power play. He used to find it difficult to play against him when their teams would meet on an Ottawa power play. Al-Kaysani seemed… frustrated now. Playing on the same line as him though…

“The power play was shit but he was fine on the ice I think. We’re still sorting out a rhythm.”

Andy snorted. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d defend Yusuf Al-Kaysani.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Nicky doubted there would ever be a time they could tolerate each other. “So how has the PWHL stuff been going?”

They went on to talk about setting up for the next season. Andy was the captain and Quýnh was an alternative captain. There’d been plenty of jokes about nepotism — all lighthearted, Quýnh proved herself a long time ago on team Canada. Between the three of them he was the only one without an Olympic gold medal.

They were in the middle of telling him about their new goalie when there was a knock at his door.

He glanced up to the door, eyeing it like something might break through.

“You want to get that?” Quýnh asked.

“Uh, not sure.” He couldn’t think of who was coming to see him in his hotel room so late at night.

“We should go to bed anyway,” Andy said. “We’ll try to watch the LA and Anaheim games too, okay?”

He thanked them and wished them goodnight. He got off his bed and went to the door.

When he opened the door, he almost slammed it back into the face he saw.

“What do you want?” Nicky asked, glaring at Al-Kaysani.

Al-Kaysani stood with his hands in his pockets, clearly trying to look cool but he was so easy for Nicky to look through. He looked more like a kid trying to sneak into an R rated movie.

“I need to ask you something, can I come in?”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Not really, no.”

He huffed and let Al-Kaysani into his room. He closed the door and quietly wondered if he was about to be somehow maimed. It was easier to think about that than the last time they were in a hotel room together, and somewhat more believable.

“I’m surprised you’re not down at the bar with the rest of the team,” Nicky said, although he wasn’t sure why he was bothering with small talk.

Al-Kaysani shook his head. “Nah. I don’t really like going out after a loss.”

“Right.” He kept his words harsh and quick. Now that he was off the phone with Andy and Quýnh he just wanted to go to sleep for the night.

“What did you want?” he asked when Al-Kaysani just stood there like Nicky was the one who had barged into his room close to curfew.

He opened his mouth to speak then closed it. Nicky cocked his head at him, already thinking about kicking him out.

“You got into the box twice,” Al-Kaysani said.

“Did you come just to berate me in private this time?” He was about ready to physically take him out of the room.

“No, I had an offer.”

“What kind?”

There was a second of hesitation before he spoke. “If you stay out of the penalty box during the game in LA I’ll suck your dick.”

“I— what?”

“Please don’t me repeat it.”

Nicky stared at him.

Hooking up at All-Star had truly been a mistake. He’d known it when he had offered, he’d known it as he’d walked up to the hotel, promptly forgot the second their lips meant, and went right to regret on the drive home.

They’d agreed to forget about it when they’d thought they’d only see each other a few times a year. They might have not said anything about it but now that they played for the same team they had to absolutely forget about it. Yet here Al-Kaysani was, using sex as some kind of bribe.

“You’re joking, right?” Nicky said, crossing his arms.

“Not if you say yes.”

Nicky snorted, shaking his head. “You really are that hard out for sex? There are gay bars here you know?”

Al-Kaysani actually rolled his eyes at that. “I’m well aware. Like I said, I don’t like going out after losses and I usually go out with the rest of the team after wins. It’s just not usually worth the risk of getting outed.”

Nicky couldn’t say he was exactly wrong. There was some risk when he’d gone out in Toronto but truthfully gay rumours didn’t scare him. He couldn’t blame Al-Kaysani for wanting to be cautious though, there was a reason he usually went out during away games. Especially away games in the US.

“So what, you never hook up on the road?”

“I do! Just not often. Yeah we’re not famous but it’s not like it’s impossible for us at least to be recognised in hockey towns. Not everywhere is Florida or Utah.”

“Yeah, there’s no repressed Mormon boys in Boston.” His eyes widened at him. “I’m kidding!” He shook his head, looking at the ground. “I thought we agreed to just forget about what happened at All-Stars. It was a stupid thing to do.”

“It was stupid. We could’ve gotten caught.”

He held back a snort. Yeah, that was the issue with hooking up. “So why are you bribing me with blowjobs?” He met his eye again.

“Well, it’s great for the team if you stay out and you get a blowjob you know will be good.”

“You think too highly of yourself.” Although Nicky couldn’t lie to himself, it had been a pretty great blowjob.

“I mean it. You are a great player, too good for Toronto and that fanbase. You’re just careless. I think we can work out a good lineup if you stop ending up in the box and I stop worrying about you ending up there.”

Nicky thought about it.

Nicky had been playing professionally for his entire adult life. Unlike most players, he didn’t have a buffer in college and was thrown right into the NHL with Juniors as the only other professional experience he’d had. He never really did quit the habit of fighting or causing a stir on the ice.

Toronto had let him get away with too much. He was on a different team now and he should probably start to stay out of the box when he could. And if doing so meant he could get a blowjob out of it…

“Okay, sure. I’ll take your offer.”

Al-Kaysani, all things considered, looked surprised. “Okay. Cool.”

They stood awkwardly for a few moments. Not a good idea, the last time they stood awkwardly around each other it had lead to them sleeping together. Although now it was a little too late for that.

Al-Kaysani cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember the bus leaves early tomorrow.”

“Right,” he replied dryly. Al-Kaysani opened the door and stepped through. After he closed it behind him Nicky stared at the door for a few moments, his brain taking a moment to figure out if that had actually happened.

“Get a load of this.”

Joe leaned over to look at Booker’s phone, pausing as he tied up his skate.

He saw that he was on Twitter. Booker had a burner account he looked at social media on. Joe wasn’t too online but he was on enough to see what fans generally thought, although he stayed on his regular account. That had gotten him in a bit of trouble after he’d accidentally liked a tweet not saying the nicest things about Keane. He’d thought about making an anonymous account like Booker but he hadn’t bothered to quite yet. He would usually just stay logged out of his accounts and look.

When Joe looked at the phone he saw a video of di Genova in the box from the game in Seattle. A few seconds passed to show Joe gritting his teeth and yelling something that couldn’t be heard in the video.

“People are trying to read your lips,” Booker said.

Joe couldn’t even remember what he’d said. It could’ve been anything from a string of swears to cursing that di Genova was some kind of idiot.

Booker scrolled to let him read and Joe’s eyes scanned the screen. Like Booker had said there was a jumble of people trying to read his lips. There was also people saying di Genova needed to be traded as soon as possible.

Joe leaned back. It was about what he’d expected. While a lot of people in the wider league did like di Genova, enough for him to get a big cheer for the home opener, there was easily even more people who hated di Genova on principle.

“Maybe they’ll get off him if he scored a goal,” Joe said. They were only two games in but di Genova was typically a good scorer. It was probably what made Toronto tolerate him.

“It’ll take more than that,” Booker said, glancing in di Genova’s direction. He had his eyes fixed on his stick as he taped it up. He wasn’t in his gear yet, sitting shirtless with a pair on Ottawa Senators sweatpants on.

Joe looked away. He hadn’t paid much attention to di Genova during the time in the locker room but he knew he usually taped up his stick shirtless before putting on his gear. He told himself that display wasn’t for him.

Ridiculous really, di Genova was getting the most out of their deal tonight.

He glanced back anyway after Booker left to get his gear on.

The game went a lot better but not great. Joe focussed on doing a lot better than the last game. He hadn’t missed any passes yet and he’d gotten a couple shots at goal.

He’d thought that if di Genova stayed good to their agreement he wouldn’t have to worry about him but somehow he was more worried than the last two games.

For the most part though, they stayed in line and maintained a good rhythm. Defence was picking up and managing to help out Lykon. Copley had been really trying to get them figured out. Merrick was an unfortunately good defenceman and he and Keane played like a well oiled machine. Now that skill was wrapped up into di Genova with no defence to pick up what was left empty.

During the second period where neither team had scored, di Genova got checked hard into the boards behind the net. Joe stopped and watched. He saw di Genova grit his his teeth as he and the other player scrambled for the puck. The player who had checked di Genova was getting close and saying something to him. Joe’s heart raced as he watched.

The puck made it out across the ice and in Joe’s direction. He caught it and shot it towards the net. It slotted right between the goalie’s legs.

Joe pumped his fits in the air as his teammates came in to hug him. Booker was patting his back and grinning.

When they separated he saw di Genova was standing on the outside of the hug.

“Nice job,” he said.

“You too,” Joe said. “I thought he was gonna get you in the box after that check.”

di Genova pressed his lips together but Joe still saw a hint of a smile. “I have good encouragement to stay out.” And he skated towards the face-off circle while Joe felt heat in his face.

The score was brought up to 1-1 after LA scored with a couple minutes left in the second period. The crowd was deafening as the players hugged. Joe was at the bench when it happened. He let out a sigh and took a sip of his water.

It was near the end of the third period that they brought the score back to Ottawa’s favour. Joe was skating down the ice trying to dodge to LA defenceman ahead of him. He saw Booker was open and hit the puck in his direction. The puck slid towards him but Booker missed, the pass almost immediately intercepted by an LA player.

He swore and chased after the puck as it entered the Ottawa zone. Booker’s defence partner was with him and di Genova and their line mate were close. Lykon managed to block the puck that was shot. The puck intercepted off of Lykon’s stick and right into di Genova’s direction.

di Genova caught the puck and used that as his chance to skate away. The LA defence didn’t seem to realise where the puck was until di Genova was already a few metres away and in a clean breakaway.

Joe followed and when he crossed into LA’s zone, di Genova hit a slap-shot over the goalie’s shoulder.

That was enough reason for the players on the ice to pat his back. Maybe eventually they’ll build up to a hugging relationship. Right now the tension still there was obvious to anyone.

The game ended with a 1-2 for Ottawa. Joe hadn’t been on the ice but the players who were had a celebratory group hug while the rest of the team at the bench cheered. Joe felt relief wash over himself and glanced at di Genova to see he was smiling.

In the locker room Copley came and gave a good pep talk. He singled out di Genova for both his game winning goal and his first goal on the team, which caused the locker room to give congratulatory hoots. Copley handed di Genova the puck, telling him to meet with the photographer so they could take a picture of him with it. Joe saw his small smile as he held the puck between his fingers.

They were only playing in Anaheim in two days so there wasn’t an early curfew. Some of the guys went out for the win. Joe decided to half lie when Booker asked him to come when they were back at the hotel.

“I think I’m gonna use LA privileges and try and hook up,” he’d said. It was a convincing enough lie. He’d done it enough times before for it to be a believable lie. Two teams in California at least put them in the city twice a year. Although in this instance they were flying out after the game in Anaheim making it only feel like one visit.

Booker had slapped his shoulder with a grin. “I’m sure the men of LA are happy to have you.”

After most of the guys had left, Joe left his hotel room and went to di Genova’s, this time with less of a weight on his shoulders. He knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately.

He was dressed casually. A worn plain t-shirt and sweatpants that hung low. There was the faintest sight of his happy trail that Joe had to force himself to look away from. The waistband of his boxers were peaking out slightly.

He wordlessly stepped aside, walking back into the room. Joe took the lead to follow, closing the door behind him.

The hotel room was just like his own. A queen bed in the middle of the room with nothing much else. Joe sometimes missed the commodity of juniors of rooming with a friend and whispering to each other in the dark well after curfew. This brought a similar excitement.

di Genova stood next to the bed with his hands in his pockets. He held that poker face Joe had gotten used to seeing.

“You don’t have to do this just because of your stupid bet, you know?”

“I know,” Joe said.

di Genova looked back at him before wordlessly giving a nod.

“I brought a condom.”

He grinned making Joe feel a sense of accomplishment. “Is it cherry flavoured again?”

“Pina colada.”

“Gross.” di Genova pulled down his pants just as far as he needed to and sat on the edge of the bed.

“It doesn’t taste that bad,” Joe said, following him to the bed and was immediately distracted when he looked down at di Genova.

Joe was definitely not that hard out for sex but this was sex he couldn’t see anyone complaining about.

di Genova was lightly stroking himself. When he looked back to him Joe realised he was staring at him.

Joe had always been drawn to di Genova’s eyes. They were somewhere between blue and green. As mysterious as the man himself could be.

“Do I get anything for getting the game winning goal?” di Genova asked as Joe fiddled around his pocket for the condom.

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Not part of the deal.”

“Next time then?”

The jest made Joe’s stomach do a backflip. He pushed it down. “I’ll think about it.”

di Genova was already half hard. He wrapped his free hand around him and stroked him. He ran his thumb over the head. He noticed di Genova’s body tense but he didn’t make a sound.

As he stroked him, di Genova’s hand combed through his hair. Joe tilted his head up. di Genova’s fingers moved to his jaw, lightly stroking his beard. He felt a lump in his throat, extremely unhelpful for what he was about to do.

His hand didn’t move as Joe put the condom on, his thumb continuing to lightly stroke his jaw. When the condom was in place, di Genova’s hand went to the back of his head. Joe expected him to stroke his hair again. Instead he pushed his head down.

He grunted, steadying himself as he got a face-full of crotch.

Okay, Joe could play this game to.

He mouthed his way around the base, touching anywhere but his actual cock.

di Genova gave a hiss and a moan. “You are such a fucking asshole.”

Joe decided then to put his cock down his throat in one motion.

The moan that came out of di Genova was one thing but he had to force himself to stay in place after hearing di Genova’s back hit the bed.

This time when di Genova’s hands found his head, he did run his finger through it.

He sucked him, di Genova mostly just staying in place, until he came. He moaned the same way he’d had back at All-Star weekend.

When he pulled off of him and stood up, di Genova was staring at the ceiling. Boneless and gorgeous.

Joe decided to be helpful and slipped off the condom, disposing it in the trashcan in the bathroom. He took the few seconds alone in the bathroom to check himself in the mirror.

He straightened his t-shirt and patted down his hair. He looked perfectly like someone who had definitely not just gave his former rival a blowjob.

When he left the bathroom di Genova had already straightened himself up. He’d propped himself back onto the bed and went onto his phone.

Joe knew he should just leave but he’d almost had trouble keeping his big mouth shut.

“Hey, we’ll do this again if you stay out of the box against Anaheim.”

di Genova looked from his phone to him. He cocked his head to the side. “You’re worried about Anaheim? I could get ejected from the game and you’d still win against them.”

“We.”

“Whatever.”

“And we lost to Seattle.”

“Once again, not my fault.”

Joe reminded himself of the concept of picking his battles. LA was a far better team than both Seattle and Anaheim. If they played as well as they had today they should be able to win easily.

Still, Joe had a captains brain — or alternative captain — and knew staying out of the box was the most important thing.

“Okay but if you manage to stay out of the box I’ll come knocking.”

“I’ll be anxiously waiting.” His tone was flat.

Joe decided to leave it at that. di Genova had already turned back to his phone, sitting there like his dick hadn’t just been in Joe’s mouth.

When Joe was back in his room he checked his phone. He’d left it there to charge. There were a few messages from Booker asking how his night was going. He locked his phone and got ready for bed.

Riding the high of a win was important for any team and Nicky was soaking in most of it through his goal in the last game.

As disengaged as Nicky wanted to be when it came to this team, he couldn’t deny the feeling of pride when he’d held the puck after the game against LA. It reminded him that just because he was on a team he’d hated it didn’t mean he couldn’t keep proving to be a great player.

He walked into the room for team breakfast, picking up some sausages and eggs. There were a few guys already at the table, including Coach and Booker.

He sat at the table and kept to himself, checking his phone. There were some messages from his brother he hadn’t bothered to check the previous night. It was vague congratulations about his goal the night before, which he used as a segue to tell him he’d scored two goals in his beer league that same night. Nicky game him a response that did nothing more than pretend to care.

Andy had congratulated him last night in the group chat between himself, her and Quýnh. Hers had felt far more genuine.

“Nice goal last night by the way.”

Nicky looked up to see it was Booker who had spoken. They hadn’t spoken much at all since Nicky had joined the team.

Nicky gave a nod. “Felt good too.” Sometimes when he went more than one game without scoring even a point he’d felt like he’d never score again. He was glad he’d kept it at two games.

“Seriously, we’re happy to have you. You played great yesterday.”

He nodded as he heard the door open. Booker looked over to the door. “Morning, Joe. Surprised you made it back to the hotel.”

“Haha,” Al-Kaysani’s voice returned.

Nicky did his best to not look over. It was still so ridiculous how he’d managed to end up in bed with that man. Again.

What was worse was that he was considering Al-Kaysani’s offer to let it happen another time.

“The bar was good though. You’ve gotta come out next time,” Booker said, sitting back down.

“I’ll think about it,” Al-Kaysani said, pausing over the food, his eyes scanning over the display before coming back with toast and plastic wrapped jam. He sat next to Booker which was a few seats away from Nicky. He didn’t look at him as he sat down, as if Nicky didn’t even exist.

Nicky brushed it off and continued to eat his breakfast.

Nicky kept to himself for the rest of the day. The rest of the team decided to go out to the beach. Nicky went back to his hotel room, ready to rest before the game the next day.

“I knew the last game was a fluke.”

Joe could only watch as di Genova skated to the penalty box, straightening up his jersey as the door closed behind him. They were in the middle of the second period and di Genova got a roughing call after the Anaheim forward narrowly missed crashing into Lykon. Joe could respect the ‘don’t touch the goalie’ intentions from it but it was clear that one blow job wasn’t enough encouragement to completely change.

They were winning the game at 3-0. di Genova had been right that Anaheim was an easier team to play against. Whatever shame or embarrassment that came from losing to Seattle was enough to make Joe play a bit more disciplined.

Anaheim got a penalty during the last period. During the power play, it was Joe’s turn to slip up. He was fighting a defenceman for the puck at the boards when he got elbowed hard. He ignored it at first, hoping the ref had noticed. When no call was made and an elbow almost hit him in the head he made the mistake to crosscheck him in the chest.

“Get the fuck off,” Joe growled as the whistle blew. He lowered his stick, regretting every decision he’d made in his life to end up in this moment. Getting into the box while winning wasn’t a big deal but the ref pointing to the box after Joe spent the last four games giving di Genova a hard time for ending up there was just plain embarrassing.

di Genova was sent out for the 4 on 4 penalty kill. Joe just kept his head down while he waited for the painful two minutes to end.

They won 5-0. Maybe it was because Joe hadn’t even gotten a point that night but he was happy to just get off of the ice.

Copley gave a good speech. Everyone cheered for Lykon’s shutout. Their defence had been working hard in practice, much needed after how the season had started out.

There was an early curfew that night since they were flying out early. Joe kept his eyes closed and his head against the window as they rode on the bus back to the hotel.

He felt a poke on his arm. He opened his eyes and saw Booker. He grunted an acknowledgement.

“You good?” Booker asked, standing over him.

“I’m fine. Just annoyed I didn’t score but got into the box.” He kept his eyes out the window. One game where he didn’t score shouldn’t be hitting him as hard as it was. Maybe he just knew di Genova was sat somewhere on the bus feeling smug.

He heard movement and from the corner of his eye he saw Booker sit in the empty spot behind him. “I don’t know why you’re taking it so hard you’ve landed in the box plenty of times.”

He gave a grunt.

“It’s okay buddy.” He gave his shoulder a pat. “We won, that’s what matters. The hotel has a bar so come down, okay?”

He definitely would since he was going to be anywhere but di Genova’s room that evening.

Chapter Text

November

Due to his chaotic schedule, Nicky hadn’t had the chance to go to an Ottawa Charge game during their first season. He had gone to a couple of the Toronto Sceptres games during the finals after his own team had missed playoffs. He knew some of the Toronto players casually through Andy and Quýnh and he was happy to go and support the team during the first finals.

Getting to cheer for Andy and Quýnh in person had been something he’d been looking forward to for a while. They’d come to as many of his own games as they’d could in both Toronto and Ottawa. It was nice to return the favour.

He’d been on Ottawa for almost two months now and things had mostly been the same. He’d kept to himself but did his best to keep things cordial. The team had been performing decently. They’d been brushing just behind the second wild card spot but this early in the season didn’t really matter. He just did his best to play well and play consistently, even if that meant landing in the box a few times.

And and Quýnh had gotten him a spot in the suite for the game. The arena was smaller than where the Sens played but still had a pretty great turnout. The suite was a nice spot to be away from everyone. He so rarely got to watch hockey games that had no affect on his team these days.

He’d found his way to the suite and grabbed a beer. He went to go find his seat before he stopped in his tracks.

Sitting right in the front was Al-Kaysani.

His back was to him, sitting next to Booker. From where he stood he could hear they were conversing in rapid French.

He hadn’t had a real interaction with Al-Kaysani since after the game in LA. That had been a month ago now. He’d made no more propositions to keep him out of the box and Nicky was happy to keep it that way.

Truthfully, during the game against LA Nicky had gotten into the box on purpose. Maybe it was to avoid repeating mistakes or it was some sort of test but either way Al-Kaysani’s knock never came. And Nicky stayed holed up in his hotel room again while his teammates had fun at a bar.

They hadn’t been to many non-hockey towns in that time but the couple of times they’d had Nicky hadn’t been able to muster up the energy to go out for a quick hookup. He’d only gone out a couple times in Ottawa since returning from California. Still, his trysts with Al-Kaysani lingered.

There were a million reasons he shouldn’t end up in bed with Al-Kaysani again and Nicky had to keep reminding himself of them.

Now he had to socialise with him when he’d just wanted to support his friends.

He held back a sigh and walked further into the suite’s seating. Booker was the one to glance his way. His brows perked up. “Hey, Nova. What are you doing here?”

Nicky’s eyes weren’t on Booker, they were firmly on Al-Kaysani. His shoulders tensed before his head turned in his seat to look at him.

He was dressed well, like he always did. It was getting colder so he was wearing a red sweater over dark wash jeans. Nicky felt a bit like a bum in his gifted Ottawa Charge branded hoodie and grey sweatpants.

“My friends are on the team,” Nicky answered Booker, making his way to sit down. He debated on where to sit before sitting in the spot where there was a chair between him and Al-Kaysani.

“Oh really? Our friend is too! She’s playing her first game. It’s the new goalie, Freeman.”

Nicky vaguely recalled the name from the new players Andy and Quýnh had told him about. “Oh cool. I’m friends with Scythia and Hoang.”

That was enough to make Al-Kaysani turn to look at him. “Wait, seriously?”

Nicky let himself smile proud. Andy and Quýnh had lead Canada to multiple Olympics and IIHF World Championships gold medals. They were the few in the women’s hockey world who’s talent made it to NHL players and fans. So much so that he had to stop himself from rudely correcting a teammate who had thought he was dating one of them. “Yeah, the very same.”

“They’re awesome players,” Booker agreed with a nod. “They just got married a few years ago didn’t they?”

“Yeah but they’ve been together forever.” Their relationship hadn’t always been public, more or less announcing it officially when they’d gotten engaged to not much noise outside of the hockey world. A small beauty of women’s sport Nicky envied.

“I’m glad you have some friends in the city. I know trades can be hard,” Booker said although Nicky knew he’d never been traded. He made a sound of agreement regardless.

The game started. The crowd may not be as big as an NHL game but packed twice the passion. Nicky could hear the team chant from the suite. They were playing Montreal so there was a scattering of Montreal fans throughout the crowd but not as bad as they could be at Ottawa Senators games.

He didn’t exchange too much words with Al-Kaysani and Booker, keeping his focus on the game. It was the third period and the Charge were winning 4-1 and Montreal was starting to scramble. Andy had scored twice and Nicky could feel her confidence from where he sat.

Quýnh played with her, taking shots at net like a viper. She was responsible for the third goal of the game, a clean shot between the goalies legs, making it look easy.

The game ended and the crowd around them roared. Nicky smiled as he watched the players on the ice celebrated. He glanced at Al-Kaysani and Booker who were both cheering with the crowd.

It wasn’t a straight line to go and see Andy and Quýnh. There were a few Senators fans in the crowd who wanted to stop to say hi. Nicky thought he might luck out with sneaking off but there were a couple of people who wanted to take pictures with him, even if he wasn’t as popular as Booker or Al-Kaysani; especially Al-Kaysani.

Al-Kaysani was easily the star player of the team, beloved by both the fans and his team. Each person he posed with served as a reminder.

No matter. He stayed off social media for this exact reason.

He waited for Andy and Quýnh in the suite. They’d told him to wait there while they finished off with showering and post game interviews.

Nicky had been reading a book on his phone when two hands grabbed his shulder from behind.

“Sorry to keep you,” Quýnh said and hugged him from behind. Andy was behind her. He laughed, leaning into her touch.

“No it’s fine, star players don’t need to be punctual,” he said and turned to them. “You did great!”

“That’s nothing new,” Andy said with a grin. “Our new goalie kicked ass.”

The mention of Freeman made Nicky glance to where Booker and Al-Kaysani had been. They had gone to get drinks at some point while socialising with the other people in the suite, mostly family and friends of the players.

Andy noticed his glance and followed his gaze. Her eyes landed on his teammates. “Al-Kaysani didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“It’s fine,” he grunted out. Andy and Quýnh had been on the receiving end of his many frustrations with the man over the past few weeks.

“You two have been playing well together,” Quýnh said.

He nodded. They’d gotten into a decent rhythm although it still left some things to desire.

“What’s he doing here anyway?” Andy asked. “And your defenceman.”

The answer to the question came when a woman came to hug the two men. There was an excited exchange between the three, the two men praising her goaltending. Al-Kaysani’s mega watt smile was practically lighting up the room.

Andy, to his horror, used this as a chance to call Freeman over.

“Hey, Nile!” she hollered and waved her hand. Nile glanced over and with a grin jogged over to them. She had a look in her eyes that Nicky recognised from his own rookies. Andy and Quýnh were two players beloved by women’s hockey and it showed on the face of the rookie goalie.

“Hey Andy, Quýnh,” she said. She looked at Nicky. “Oh hi. Your teammates with Joe and Book, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Nicky. Nice to meet you.”

“Nicky?”

Nicky glanced behind her to see Al-Kaysani and Booker had followed. Al-Kaysani was looking right at him, a hint of amusement on his lips.

He shrugged. “It’s what most people call me.”

“Oh damn, you should’ve said,” Booker said.

“It’s fine, I think ‘Nova’ is here to stay.” He didn’t hide the annoyance in his voice. He noticed Booker’s mouth curve into a frown at that. The only person who hadn’t been calling him ‘Nova’ for almost two months was Al-Kaysani, sticking to the tried and true surname approach.

Andy raised her brow. “‘Nova’? That’s not even how your last name is pronounced.”

He just shrugged. “You know how it is with nicknames.”

A snort came from Al-Kaysani. “Yeah, I’ve had some horrible nicknames myself.”

Nicky smiled at that. “I remember at World Juniors some of the guys called you ‘Zani’.”

He grimaced. “Don’t remind me. I had worse in my juniors team. ‘Joe’ is enough for a nickname”

“Well if I can call you Nicky I’ll stick to that,” Booker said.

Nicky smiled gratefully. “Please. Try and get it to catch on.”

Soon after everyone started to clear out. Andy and Quýnh promised to see him at his next game. He congratulated them on their win again before leaving to walk down to his car.

The direction he had to go was the same way Al-Kaysani had to leave. He stayed a few steps behind him. It was fine until he looked over his shoulder a scowled slightly.

Nicky looked away, keeping the same pace.

The team was doing okay. They’d won about half the games they’d played that month. He still got into the box but it wasn’t so much of a detriment Al-Kaysani would insist it was.

They were alone in the hallway, making the silence thick. Whatever pleasant exchange they’d shared had more or less evaporated. He heard a sound of annoyance from Al-Kaysani, the sound of his footsteps stopping. Before Nicky could even realise what was happening in grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into the nearby bathroom. Nicky made a sound of protest but before he could fight him off the door of the bathroom closed behind them.

It was empty, likely Al-Kaysani’s goal. He snipped the lock, standing in Nicky’s way.

“You are so—”

“According to the stats website you’re leading in penalty box minutes.”

His shock wore off. There was no way he dragged him into a bathroom just for that. “Thanks for the information. Did you also check who’s the points leader on the team this season?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I think we should put our deal back on.”

Nicky held back a snort. “I’m not doing this with you again. If you can’t get laid without the convenience it’s not my problem.”

“Funny because I distinctly remember you called me hot at All Stars.”

“Well none of this would have ever happened if you weren’t the one who looked at me first or asked me to come to your room.”

“And yet you came each time.”

“Oh, clever double meaning. Can I go now?”

Al-Kaysani pressed his lips together. He stepped aside and Nicky went to unlock the door. He glanced back at him. He still had a pissy look on his face.

The truly most frustrating thing about all this was that Al-Kaysani was sickeningly attractive. Dark brown eyes, pouty lips and a beard that he still remembered the feeling of against his thighs.

He dropped his hand. He might regret his next words but they were out before he’d thought about it too much.

“If you wanted to hook up you don’t need to make it a game.”

The look on Al-Kaysani’s face morphed into surprise. Nicky watched him swallow before he replied. “Oh. I mean, it wasn’t really about that.”

He tilted his head to the side. This guy was so bad at lying it was kind of adorable. “Oh really? So if I end up in the box at our next game you won’t be a little bit disappointed?”

Al-Kaysani maintained eye contact, his tongue sticking through his front teeth. “I think you’re the one who has to decide if you stay out the box, no?”

It was risky but Nicky leaned forward, just close enough that their lips weren’t touching but they could feel each other’s breath. “If I do, maybe we can do more than you sucking me off. I like to give as much as I like to take.”

He pulled back, giving him a smirk. His words got the reaction he’d wanted, Al-Kaysani staring at him with blown pupils.

Before this could go from a bad idea to a worse idea, he unlocked the bathroom door and left Al-Kaysani behind him.

They lost to Columbus in overtime. It wasn’t the worst loss out there. During regulation Joe managed to get an assist with Booker. Not a goal but still a point so he wasn’t going to be too hard on himself, even after a loss.

To distract himself, his mind went to his conversation with di Genova from the other night.

di Genova had gotten a goal during the game. They still hadn’t graduated to hugs after either of them scored. He’d let Booker pat his back but other than the routine fist bumps at the bench he didn’t celebrate too much or too loud.

The one thing Joe was mostly focussed on was that he hadn’t ended up in the box. And he wasn’t completely sure what that meant for the rest of the night.

Things had been weird between them since the last time they had hooked up. He didn’t bother approaching di Genova after landing in the box himself. It was partly from the embarrassment but there was a whole other factor; he’d felt disappointed.

They hadn’t spoken at all until the PWHL game. He hadn’t known di Genova was friends with PWHL players yet he somehow was with two of the best. He’d looked so proud of them as he’d watched. Joe had found himself endeared. It was like a rare peak into Nicky di Genova, the friend rather than Nicolò di Genova, the hockey player.

He couldn’t help but smile at that nickname. Somehow this big tough hockey player who had knocked out teeth was casually called Nicky by his friends.

Maybe it was being partly endeared, maybe it was his stress of not scoring many goals and wanting to blame it on di Genova’s penalty habit but he wanted to somehow get this man back into his bed.

Pulling him into the bathroom had been a foolish endeavour that could’ve gone in any direction. Even after he’d left Joe wasn’t completely sure how it had ended.

When his phone buzzed in the locker room after press there was an address to a nearby apartment. He hadn’t saved the number but he knew who it was. He must’ve gotten his number from the team group chat.

He saved the number as ‘Nicky’. Maybe starting to have some kind of familiar association will make this whole thing feel less of a bad idea.

He spent the drive to di Genova’s apartment trying to not talk himself out of it. This felt more tense than the other times. Maybe because it was in his home rather than another hotel room. Ironically he should feel a little more relaxed they were going to have real privacy now. Joe was shocked they hadn’t been caught even the first time.

He pulled up to the apartment building. When he rang di Genova’s number he buzzed him in without even a reply. Joe walked upstairs at an even pace.

di Genova was still mostly in his suit when he answered the door. He’d taken off his tie and jacket. The first few buttons of his shirt had been unbuttoned.

One of the most infuriating things about di Genova was just how effortlessly sexy he could be. He could imagine him in a club not even having to try very hard. He could captivate a whole room of people.

He tilted his head at him. “You didn’t reply to my text. Thought you weren’t coming.” He stood aside to let him inside. Joe walked passed him and he closed the door.

“Yeah well, what can I say,” he shrugged. “I make bad decisions.”

There was a hint of a smile on his lips. “I think you deserve a reward for that assist.” He nodded towards a door that Joe assumed lead to his bedroom. He followed behind, trying to not let his confidence falter.

“I thought this whole game was about whether you get into the box.”

“You created the game. I’m just changing the rules.”

He snorted. “Right, you’re a giver.”

The bedroom felt more like a hotel room. It didn’t seem very personable and there wasn’t much colour in the decor. Joe had seen the sign outside that said the condos were furnished. di Genova continued to be a guy who favoured practicality.

“You can decide what we do,” di Genova said when he reached the bed.

“Oh.” He hadn’t thought about that part at all on the way.

“No pressure,” he added.

“Well, you scored a goal tonight maybe you should decide.”

He sat on the bed and beckoned him to come over with his finger. Joe stepped forward as he undid his pants.

“Do you like fucking?” he asked as his fingers started to graze his inner thigh. His breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of his calloused fingers.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, his eyelids heavy. The image flashed in his mind. di Genova bending him over his bed. di Genova on top of him bouncing up and down. It all went right to his cock.

“Good, you can get a taste tonight.”

He looked at him through his eyelashes. “Elaborate.”

“I can fuck your thighs. They are so fucking good.”

“Okay,” he said although he was ready to go on his hands and knees right then and there. “Do I have to earn getting fucked?”

“We play Toronto in a couple days. If we win, I’ll fuck you.”

“And if we lose?”

“I don’t know, it’s your game.” He kissed his stomach through his shirt. Joe was leaking from his fully hard cock, feeling like he was going to collapse. “Get on your back.”

He took off his pants and underwear without protest. di Genova crawled on top of him, his dress shirt gone and pants unbuttoned. Joe could see him hard through his pants. di Genova fingered at the buttons.

“Don’t want to get this dirty, right?” He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, pressing his lips to his chest after the he undid the first few. Joe’s breath hitched in his throat. He ran his fingers through his hair, letting them linger on the back of his neck.

When he was done unbuttoning the shirt Joe sat up enough to take it off. Once it was off di Genova kicked off his pants and underwear, returning back over him.

di Genova took hold of his chin and brushed his thumb over his button lip. Joe’s mouth fell open as he came down to kiss him. An involuntary moan came out softly as he kissed him back.

di Genova pressed his hips further down on him and Joe felt how hard he was against him.

di Genova pulled away and Joe pressed his lips on his neck as he reached over to his nightstand. Joe didn’t stop kissing his neck as di Genova shuffled his hand around. He pulled away further and Joe saw he was holding a bottle of lube and a condom.

“I don’t have flavoured, sorry,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Joe smiled back. “I’ll manage.”

di Genova slipped the condom on and slicked lube onto himself. He kept his eyes on Joe as he stroked himself. Joe swallowed, trying to not break eye contact.

There had been a lingering thought in his mind about how forbidden this was. He should be at home resting or with the rest of his team. Instead he was in the bed of his teammate and former rival. Forbidden and just incredibly sexy.

“Get on your stomach,” di Genova said. Joe complied, propping himself onto his knees, keeping his face in the pillow. He felt di Genova’s lips against the spot between his shoulder blades before he pressed himself between his thighs. Joe bit his lip as he started to move and heard him moaning behind him. Joe was leaking onto his bed.

di Genova’s face came down and mouthed around his neck as he took his cock into his hand. Joe let out another moan while he tugged onto him.

The feeling of di Genova between his thighs brought the image of him actually being inside of him to mind. He already knew he would be a withering mess.

As di Genova’s pace quickened so did his hand. Joe was gripping the sheets biting his bottom lip. He was able to keep it in until he heard a moan from di Genova, his hips relaxing. His hand was still around Joe stroking him. All it took was di Genova kissing his shoulder to come all over his sheets.

di Genova collapsed next to him and Joe’s knees gave in, his face burying into the pillow.

For a few moments there was only the sound of them panting. Joe felt like he was sinking into the mattress.

He turned his head to look at di Genova. His hair was sticking to his forehead. Joe bit his lip, resisting the urge to push his hair out of his face.

He rolled onto his back and forced himself into a sitting position. “Damn, we better play good against Toronto after that.”

He glanced at di Genova who was looking up at him with a smile. “Take it as encouragement to score a goal.”

He returned the smile. “I’ve been sucking a bit this year.”

di Genova tapped his leg with his foot. “You have not. Stop being so hard on yourself. You still score more than a ton of guys in the league.”

Joe decided to just take the compliment rather than throw back a joke. “Thanks. But you were right the other night, you are leading in points.”

“Well yeah, I’m still better than you.”

Joe rolled his eyes and got off the bed. “Alright I’m leaving.”

“That’s fine, I wasn’t inviting you to stay.” He rolled onto his side. “Let my get some pants on I’ll walk you out.”

“So you can be a gentleman?”

He smiled. “I am the most perfect gentleman, I promise you.”

di Genova put on some sweatpants and walked him to his door after Joe got dressed back into pieces of his suit. He just put on his wrinkled dress shirt and pants, hooking the tie and jacket over his arm.

“I believe they call this look the walk of shame,” di Genova said, his eyes going up and down over his body.

“It’s a short walk to my car, I’ll be fine.” He opened the door and looked over his shoulder. di Genova watched him, hands in his pockets and pants slung low on his hips. His happy trail was visible. The sight was enough to make Joe want to slam him against a wall and grind on him until they were both panting messes again.

Instead he closed the door behind him and walked to his car.

Chapter Text

Trades were part of the business when it came to any professional sport. Most players would experience it at least once in their career. Some were bounced around a league like a pingpong ball. This was a story told a million times.

Still, Nicky couldn’t deny how weird it felt to be wearing red and black and not blue and white when he got onto the ice. His first game against Toronto hadn’t even been a thought on his mind during the season. It was something inevitable and worrying about it before it happened hadn’t made sense.

Yet here he was, standing on the ice feeling tense as the national anthem was sang. He looked to the stands, seeing plenty of Toronto jerseys with his number. Something was so laughable about being at an Ottawa home game and seeing more people wearing his Toronto jersey than his Ottawa one.

Somewhere during the national anthem his eyes turned to the Toronto roster. It was mostly in tact from his trade. A few fourth liners were sent to other teams in the league, replaced by fresh faces. There were still plenty of faces Nicky had been friendly with but had never made memories with. He wasn’t sure if now was the time he could feel any regret.

In the lineup he saw Keane and Merrick. He wondered then how they were settling into the team, if he hadn’t left too much of an empty void in his trade. He knew they were both generally well liked in Ottawa. He’d heard their names from his teammates a few times in the locker room. His old teammates were probably more than happy to have the void filled by two much more sociable players.

Nicky had tried to not think too much about this game. He was glad that the first game against Toronto was a home game. He quietly dreaded the first away game against them. Even if there was a sizeable Toronto population in the crowd it still felt somewhat easier to get through it on home ground.

The plays were different of course but he could still recognise some tells in specific player. Whether it be his favourite former left-winger still doing that thing with his eyebrow when he would make a pass or the type of blocking tactics one of the larger defensemen would use. It was enough to at least try and get shots at the net but even in practice he’d struggle at times against his former goalie. He was one of the best in the league and Nicky had been thankful to have him on his team.

He gritted his teeth as he skated down to the Toronto zone when another one of his shots got blocked. Al-Kaysani had provided the attempted assist and was following in line with him. Keane had the puck while Nicky couldn’t place Booker on the ice as he tried to skate after him.

Lykon appeared to have the situation handled although there was no one but him in the Ottawa zone before Nicky got there. Keane was crowding around him alone as he made it just in time to knock the puck away from the blue line. Keane didn’t seem to want to go down without a fight and soon enough they were both scrambling around the net with their sticks to find the puck. Lykon bet them to it and managed to get it under his glove. The whistle blew and Nicky was relived he could finally catch his breath.

He wasn’t touching Keane but he was close enough to him for Keane to shove him away. “Get off of me you fucking faggot.”

Nicky pulled back, staring at the other man before rolling his eyes. “How original Keane. Did you think of that one all by yourself?”

Keane straightened up and glared at him. “I can say it again to be sure.”

“Watch it, Keane.”

Nicky turned, seeing Al-Kaysani at his side. He wasn’t sure when he had shown up but he was shooting daggers into Keane. He’d been on the receiving end of that look many times but Keane looked completely unfazed.

“What? I didn’t call you a faggot.”

Lykon frowned from where he stood behind them. “Come on Marc, you know that’s not cool.”

He shrugged. “It’s not my fault Joey’s fucking soft.”

“Keane,” Al-Kaysani said, his tone somehow harsher than before.

“Okay, I’m gonna break up whatever this is,” said a referee as he skated up, pointing to their benches. “It’s commercial break so go and cool off.”

Keane gave a mock salute before skating off. Nicky decided to do the same. He nudged Al-Kaysani in the arm. “Come on, I need water.”

Whatever stiffness he was in seemed to wear off and together they skated to the bench.

“You two don’t get along?” Nicky asked in an attempt of pleasantries after they sat down and he picked up his water bottle. He usually avoided sitting next to him but this seemed as good of a time as ever to do so

“He and Merrick are both fucking assholes. Always were.”

He tilted his head. “You’re acting like the homophobia is unique. I got used to it back in juniors.”

When he didn’t respond Nicky took it as a sign to drop it.

The thing was, homophobia was a tired part of hockey. Slurs thrown on the ice were child’s play at this point that they didn’t even faze Nicky. He never liked hearing it but maybe the knowledge that it wasn’t personal made it sting a little less. He’d sometimes quietly wonder if a tune would be changed if other players knew about him, as if they were somehow magically above actual bigotry and not loose usage of slurs.

Nicky had proven himself as a fighter a long time ago so maybe they wouldn’t even attempt slurs if they knew there was truth to them.

During his next shift he avoided a hit and managed to keep control of the puck. There wasn’t a clear path ahead of him to the net. He saw Al-Kaysani was somehow open so he shot the puck towards him. The puck slid to him and he effortlessly shot it right to the goal and over the goalies shoulder.

The crowd cheered as Booker skated to Al-Kaysani to hug him. When Nicky reached he gave him a pat on the back. “Nice goal.”

Joe grinned at him, dimples and all. “Thanks. You didn’t do too bad yourself.” He pointed to the scoreboard. “We’re winning.”

And he skated off to fist bump the guys at the bench. It wasn’t until he was over there until he realised he was grinning like an idiot.

It ended up being a clean win for Ottawa, a respectable 4-2 win. Nicky had been on the ice and just stared at the scoreboard before going to the locker room.

While Nicky was at his stall drying off after his shower he could overhear Al-Kaysani talking to Booker and Lykon. It was in English, probably for Lykon’s sake. Nicky couldn’t remember ever hearing Al-Kaysani and Booker converse in English.

“Oh come on, you scored tonight and it was against Toronto, you have to come out with us tonight,” Booker said.

“I told you I’ve already made plans,” Al-Kaysani responded. He was half dressed, his dress shirt unbuttoned and his pants barley straightened up. “And I overheard some of the guys invited Keane and Merrick.”

“You’ve gone out with them plenty of times before,” Lykon said. “Is this about Marc calling Nicky a, well, you know.”

That was enough to make Nicky glance over while buttoning his shirt. They were too caught up in their conversation to notice he was close enough to hear but he still expected all eyes to turn to him.

They didn’t. Instead Booker turned to Lykon. “Oh are you serious? He really went back to saying that shit the first chance he got.”

“It’s not about that. Yes I’m pissed about that but I did genuinely already have plans,” Al-Kaysani said. There was an edge in his voice when he spoke about Keane. Nicky had heard something or other about how Al-Kaysani and Keane never got along but he’d never paid much mind to it. He’d never been one to gossip.

Booker gave a grunt. “Fine go have fun but you have to at least show us a picture of him.”

Nicky turned away while he finished off buttoning his shirt and getting his tie in place. He tuned out of the rest of the conversation, only catching Al-Kaysani inform his teammates he didn’t have any photos of the He in question.

It wasn’t lost on Nicky that Booker and Lykon knew there would be a ‘he’ at all. Especially said so casually in a locker room. He’d have to remember to ask him about it later.

He got to his apartment and shot Al-Kaysani a text that he was there. In that time he got everything ready in his room and stripped off his suit. He changed into some sweatpants and didn’t bother putting on a shirt. Al-Kaysani did a very bad job at not checking him out when he was barely dressed.

When his doorbell chimed he pressed the button to let him in. The knock came soon enough and Nicky opened the door.

Al-Kaysani was in pieces of his suit when he walked in, only in a dress shirt and pants. His eyes looked up and down his body. Nicky was quietly satisfied he’d had the effect he’d wanted.

“Do you just not wear clothes here?”

Nicky smiled at him. “I could wear less next time.”

Al-Kaysani rolled his eyes and started to make his own way to Nicky’s room. “Well it’s not like we need clothes right now.” He was unbuttoning his shirt with each step.

When they were both in the room, Al-Kaysani had already discarded his dress shirt and was starting on his pants. They must’ve been tailored, they made his ass look incredible. Hockey ass was definitely no joke.

By the time they were both on the bed they were both naked. Nicky was straddling Al-Kaysani’s hips, met with a bored expression below him.

“Now just so you know, I like to take things slow,” Nicky said, dipping down to nip at his collarbone.

He let out a light hiss. “Oh yeah? Is that what you call it?”

Nicky pulled away, smirking at him. “You also scored a very beautiful goal tonight thanks to me.”

He narrowed his eyes at him. “Big words from a man who didn’t score tonight.”

“Either way, I’m gonna reward you properly.”

He raised a brow at him. “Okay. Show me a good time and I might come back.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll make it the best you’ve ever had.” He leaned down and nipped at his neck. He moaned at his touch, his fingers tangling in his hair.

“Shit. Do not give me a hickey I swear—”

Nicky pulled away, taking his cock into his hand. He gently stroked him, delighting as he watched him moan, tilting his head back. “Fuck.”

Nicky kissed his throat and crawled down between his legs. He bit his thighs and soothed his with his tongue. The sounds Al-Kaysani were toe curling. He bit, sucked and kissed his thighs. His cock was hard and Nicky had to force himself to not get his mouth on it yet.

He’d been thinking about this since he’d suggested it the last time they’d hooked up. Hell when he had Al-Kaysani on his hands and knees he had to force himself to not ask Al-Kaysani if he wanted him to go a bit higher.

There was something so intoxicating about the way Al-Kaysani came undone. He’d spent years seeing this man in high stress situations that seeing him in such a state of bliss sent shockwaves to his brain.

He pulled him by his hip which was enough for Al-Kaysani to flip right over. Nicky straddled him from behind, letting his cock rub against his lower back. His pre-cum slicked over his skin.

He leaned down and kissed his shoulder, Al-Kaysani letting out a small moan.

He mouthed at his shoulder blades, slowly making his way down his body. Al-Kaysani was so unrestrictive with each touch, each one causing a moan or sigh and it all went straight to his dick.

When he was at his ass, he pulled him to his knees. He complied, resting on his elbows with his ass in the air.

“Do you want me to hand you the lube?”

Nicky bit his lip. “Not yet.” And his tongue darted right to his hole.

“Holy fuck,” he moaned as Nicky worked in his tongue. He could imagine him gripping the sheets, his face screwing in the way it did when he was trying not to come.

“Not what I hand in mine when you said you’d reward me for the goal,” Al-Kaysani said, his breath heavy.

Nicky pulled away. “I could always stop.”

“Fuck you.”

“We can do that next time.” He put his tongue back on his hole, Al-Kaysani letting out a long moan.

“Fuck, fuck fuck, yes,” he moaned.

He worked his tongue into the relaxed muscles. This wasn’t something he did a lot. He wasn’t opposed to it but sex as of recent was a quick ordeal so he wouldn’t be late for curfew. Nicky liked to sleep and waking up early for a flight was one of his least favourite parts of his job.

He didn’t mind it that night. He’d meant it when he’d said he wanted to reward him. He’d been so hard on himself for not scoring as much that helping him unwind a bit and take his time was the least he could do.

He did pull away to get the bottle of lube and a condom. Al-Kaysani whined when his tongue was gone. Nicky had to stop himself from snorting.

After he grabbed the lube he took a second to look at him. His face was in the pillow, his head turned. His curls fell into his face as he bit into his lip. There was a faint flush to his face under his light brown skin.

Nicky couldn’t help it, his hand reached to his face and pushed his curls out of the way. There was a hint of a smile as he touched him. Nicky felt his heart race.

Nicky returned behind him. He poured some lube onto his fingers. He leaned back down and gently licked around his hole again. He was still relaxed but he liked the noises Al-Kaysani was making and wanted to keep hearing them.

He slid a lubed finger inside of him. It was tight around his finger.

“How long has it been since you’ve done this?” Nicky asked, more as a precaution than a tease.

“A while. Almost a year I think.”

He nodded even though he couldn’t see him. “Alright, we’ll go slow.”

He worked his finger inside of him, his tongue around the rim to help relax him. He soon relaxed enough for him to put in a second finger.

He kept his pace slow. This had always been Nicky’s least favourite part of sex but he’d always did his best to make his partners feel comfortable. His tongue wasn’t always a factor but it seemed like a good idea with Al-Kaysani.

Al-Kaysani made small whimpers and moans as he stretched him out. He slowly relaxed around his fingers. Nicky grabbed the bottle and poured a generous amount of lube over his hole and fingers.

He lightly hissed. “Can you warm it up next time?”

He responded by sticking in a third finger, a groan following. From the angle he sat, he watched him grip the sheets.

He bit his lip at the thought of what was going to happen soon. He so easily got drunk on the noises he made.

Nicky wiggled his three fingers, the muscles still just a little too tense. He leaned forward and kissed his lower back. The moan that followed was soft.

“It’s a shame it’s been almost a year. Truly a crime for it to be rare for someone to see you in this position.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, letting it be you shows poor judgement on my part.”

He curled his fingers which caused him to groan. “You won’t be saying that soon.”

His breath was heavy. “Well you better get to it and show me.”

He grinned and slowly pulled his fingers out. He tore open the foil and slipped the condom on. His own cock was hard and begging for friction. Even putting the condom on caused him to stifle a moan.

He poured condom on his cock and Al-Kaysani’s hole. He pressed the head to the rim, not going in quite yet. He bit his lip before slowly pushing in.

He sighed, pulling his head back as the warmth washed over him. Below him, Al-Kaysani let out an intoxicating “Oh.”

That was enough to get his hips moving. He made smooth thrusts, keeping a hand on his lower back to keep balance. Al-Kaysani absorbed each thrust with a moan. The sounds alone was enough to almost send him over the edge. He kept it in, he wanted to stay in this moment for as long as possible.

He curled his hand underneath to take hold of his neglected cock. It was enough for a deep, long moan to escape him.

Nicky smiled and gently stroked him between thrusts. “Definitely a crime no one’s put you in this position for a year.” He brushed his thumb over the head causing him to gasp.

“Fuck. I— fuck,” was all he gave in response.

He placed his hands on his hips and moved his hips faster. Moans escaped his own mouth, his breaths turning into heavy pants. Below him, Al-Kaysani gripped the sheets and swore with each thrust. Nicky had to hold him by his hips tighter to stop him from from collapsing onto the mattress.

It took a few more thrusts before he felt himself getting close. He paused his thrusts, curling his arm around to get ahold of his cock again. It took a few hard strokes for him to come into his hand. The moan he let out was long and deliriously sexy. As he rode his orgasm Nicky thrusted into him a few more times before his own orgasm hit.

He pulled out, mostly so when his orgasm came down he wouldn’t collapse onto Al-Kaysani. He let it hit him before falling next to him on the mattress where he had landed after he had pulled out.

They laid down for a few minutes, only the sound of their breathing between them. Nicky kept his eyes closed. Something about seeing him in post orgasm bliss this time felt like a bad idea. Usually he would reach over and kiss his partner. If time and the man allowed, he’d sometimes fall asleep and pretend it was something permanent.

Al-Kaysani was the first to make a sound. He grunted as Nicky kept his eyes away from him while the bed’s weight shifted. He heard movement around the room, turning over once he’d heard the sound of him getting dressed.

When he looked up at him he already had his pants on. He was slipping on his dress shirt, starting to button it up.

He forced himself into a sitting position and grabbed his underwear. He slipped into the bathroom to toss the condom into the trashcan. He’d have to get new sheets, Al-Kaysani had made a mess of them. And it still smelt like that cologne he always wore. It was the same one he wore the night they hooked up for the first time.

When he got back to his room Al-Kaysani was dressed and seemed ready to leave. He was straightening up his dress shirt.

The thing was, there was a thought stuck in his mind for hours. “Hey can I ask? Why did you act like that when Keane called me a, you know.”

He looked back at him, hands lowering from his shirt. “You really don’t care?”

“I do care on principle, sure. But it doesn’t affect me anymore. It’s not like it’s personal.”

He scratched the back of his head. “I guess I didn’t tell you. I’m out to my team. Keane threw the word around a lot before any of them knew but they all got him to stop after. I knew he hadn’t changed but I guess hearing him still say it set me off a little.”

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.”

He frowned slightly at him. “I’m guessing you weren’t out to your team?”

He shook his head. “No. I think even if I didn’t keep to myself I wouldn’t have told them. Felt like too much of a headache to deal with.”

Nicky really couldn’t imagine any other possible queer player being out to their team. Even with such a strong brotherhood that could form on a team the idea of letting your teammates know felt like an impossibility.

Nicky had spent those years in Toronto simply lying by omission. Whether it be his teammates asking if he had a girlfriend or not addressing the gender of people he’d slept with on the road. It was the easiest option and it never seemed to matter if he’d eventually found a partner. That didn’t feel like it was currently in his cards anyway, even if he were to try to seek it out.

“Doesn’t it feel weird? That no one knows?”

He shrugged. “My family knows. And I have Andy and Quýnh. And you.”

“I don’t think I count.”

“You count,” he said sincerely. “And I thought you didn’t want to get outed. Why let your team know with how many people come and go?”

“I don’t know, I guess it just feels different. It wasn’t like it was immediate, I told Booker a couple years in when our friendship was solid. The rest of the team didn’t know until a year-ish later. I mostly just got sick of getting asked about a girlfriend.”

“Well… that’s good that you felt like you could. There’s so much bullshit in the league I never even saw it as something possible.”

“I mean, it’s not great like you saw with Keane but it’s not as bad as I used to worry it could be.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Maybe someone will be brave enough to come out publicly first.”

“Yeah. Maybe one day.”

He nodded. “Maybe one day.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, awkwardly keeping eye contact. After a few moments, Al-Kaysani cleared his throat. “I gotta get going.”

“Right.”

He walked him to the door. It was well past when either of them should be in bed. They were leaving for an away game in Vancouver the next day. The flight was early enough that Nicky knew he would need to be well rested just to account for the time difference, even if the game wasn’t until the day after tomorrow.

Before he closed the door behind him, Al-Kaysani glanced back at him. There was nothing obvious in his expression.

When he closed the door behind him Nicky was left with a weird empty feeling in his stomach.