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Chapter Text

There were screams of children leaving practice in the arena, teams of sub 20 players walking in full equipment in the corridors “Hello Dan, come to the ice later!”, a couple of very nice looking figure skaters huffing and puffing to the Zamboni operator, he winked at one of them “Dan, I missed you during the summer!”. The cleaners rushed people to the sides while two health coordinators were panicking “Get your mask up Cameron! The doctor's office moved to the third floor.” It was a mess with all the covid restrictions going on. He needed to get his physical done and signed by one of the NHL doctors, get some tests done, pass the training test and it all took more time than he thought, because it was almost lunch time and he was hungry, but it would have to wait. What a busy day. 

“Cameron!” coach Carpenter, from sub 20 showed up in the hall and grabbed him from the arm. “I need you! We are out of one player; the boys are odd numbers. Come and play.” 

“I need to do the training test!” Carpenter, a fifty-a-lot year old mustache of a man, grabbed his phone. 

“Lucas, I have Cameron on the ice. If you want to test if he is fit, watch him from the windows. I need another player because this IDIOTS cannot play without full numbers. I promise you the day one of them gets banked for more than 2 minutes they won’t fucking know what to do… yes… ok, Cameron you are in! Get dressed and out.”

“You are not my coach anymore!” Dan said laughing and you could see how his former coach was hiding a little smile. 

“You own me, you little bitch. Get your red hair ass dressed! Ok everybody, you are going to play with a fucking NHL referee in the team, so you better know what the fuck you are doing!”

Dan went back on the ice, feeling a bit nostalgic, a bit awkward with all the padding. It passed through his mind that he was one of the kids long ago, 12 years already. He also worked hard to be one of the chosen ones, what a clown, he thought. They bullied Hollander until he decided to go below his rate because he was gay, and maybe because he was banging his rival, but that was irrelevant. Dan had never been in the closet, or like his mom said, the closet doors were made of glass. He made it to the AHL but had to work twice as hard as the other players to get picked for the matches and they only kept him for a few seasons anyways. The kids were around sixteen years old, and all were hungry to get the spot on them, a chance to be drafted. Yes… Nostalgic.

“I’m pretty sure they are going to kick my ass.”

“It is never too early to hate a ref! Go!” 

He could see a couple of kids ready to play higher leagues already, some of them were pushing him around in a way it would have been messy in the NHL, but in the end, he was thirty-two and trained as much as a professional. Just because they do not wear all the gear it doesn’t mean they don’t follow around the fastest men on ice. One of the kids stole the puck but he slid and jumped by his side, the boy got scared and tripped. 

“He tripped me!” Dan laughed and grabbed the boy's arm, got him on his skates again.

“What the fuck are you saying, you mean you tripped with your own shadow! Someone makes a little jump, and you get all scared now?” The boy was getting red on the face. 

“It’s ok coach, that was just a little bit of figure skating. It is good for your form, you should try some training.”

“I’m not doing that gay shit.” The boy really tried to stand over Dan, but he barely got to his chin.

“Well, that’s misconduct, so you are out.” Dan said to the boy. He looked confused at Dan. The referee was not bulging, not angry either but confident, the boy looked at the coach. “You heard me.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Canovas. Are you deaf now? Misconduct, get your ass back to the changing room! Listen boys, that’s what happens when you are an idiot, if a ref tells you to get out, match or not, you get your ass out!” The boy skated back, head in between his shoulders. “I’m sorry Cameron. This shit is still up, even more since Hollander left. Sometimes I feel we went back a step.” 

“Don’t worry, if someone knows about it, it’s me. I’m going to leave, I just arrived this morning and training sucks.”

The coach laughed and let him go back to the changing room, however the kid would be there, and it was enough for today, so Dan went to grab some water before changing. Just in the corner someone was looking through a map of the building, confused. 

“Hello. Do you need help?” 

The man looked at him. Dan was wearing the skates still, he could be easily 6’ 3 feet right now and this man was taller than him, light brown hair, sky blue eyes, short beard, he looked gorgeous, and so, so tall. It took him a minute, but Dan recognized him. 

“Yes, I was looking for the doctor’s office?”

“Third floor, right, and then you will see a paper sticker on the door. They moved it.” 

“Thanks. I saw you on the ice, I will see you soon in the NHL, keep the good job and good luck!” 

A broad smile and a silly thumbs up. In any other case it would have been patronizing, but Dan guessed what was happening and giggled.

“Oh… No luck needed.” 

“Sure buddy!” The man was looking a bit confused.

“Because I’m not a player.”

“Weren’t you training in the juniors?”

“Yes, helping the coach. I am NHL, my name is Dan Cameron. Nice to meet you.”

Dan took the gloves and extended a hand, ecstatic of happiness because that big man was blushing, uncomfortable and embarrassed, but then he gave him a hand. It was strong and confident, just what the Vanguard needed from their new center.

“Dan Cameron? Oh, shit. The referee? Our referee?”

“The only one!”

“I’m so sorry!” The man managed to look like he was 5’ 5 in a second. “I thought you were one of the kids, a cool unimpressed one! I haven’t seen you without the ref equipment before, and with the equipment you look like a…” The man blushed again, stopping himself. “I’m so sorry, but yes, hello. I’m Harley Marshall. What a way to make a first impression.”

“I’m impressed by you thinking I was 20 years old.”

“I am very sorry and very embarrassed. I own you one. Are you doing something later?” Dan opened his eyes in surprise, and he stumbled on a simple “I’m free” just when Harley said. “What is that eye color? I’ve never seen it before. How are your eyes golden?”

Dan head was running, not understanding if that was actual flirting or he was only curious. He was blushing anyway, couldn’t stop himself when a handsome man was looking so deep into his eyes.

“They are brown, mostly. Light brown, it’s the light.” 

Harley turned his head a bit, nodded and smiled. “Amazing. You are coming to my after party. Where do you live?”

“Dorval…”

“Oh! You are so close! Here, write me your number and I will give you the address.”

Harley grabbed his phone, and wrote a new contact under Cameron, and gave it to Dan. He had to stop this for going further, it was way too much attention to make him comfortable.

“I don’t think referees should go to team parties, it’s not appropriate.” 

“You are not my referee.” Harley looked back at his eyes; he had an intense look that radiated energy. “Our referee. You can’t arbitrate our matches. Why not?”

Dan wrote his number, and Harley jumped to send him a message. A couple of dancing men and an address to a kind of wealthy part of the city that was close to him. 

“I will think about it.” 

Harley smiled and nodded again. Dan saw himself smiling with him, still red in the face. He decided that he was happy, and optimistic, so it was time to change and shower even if the edgy teen was in the changing room. Which he was, trying to stay straight and probably hoping to grow a couple of inches by the time Dan reached to him. 

“Hi.” Dan said, not adding more and removing his clothes. 

Dan was very aware he looked younger because he couldn’t grow a bear for whatever reason his genes had, but that’s where it stopped. From his friends, only Garret was as tall as him and almost 195 lbs. He never stopped with his hockey routine and he plays with the amateurs from time to time, so there was no real reason to stop . Dan grabbed a towel from over the kids head. “Sorry, done, thanks.” Not like he was trying to embarrass the kid, but to be honest, that kid will hate his bones anyways the second he gets drafted. He was 6 feet tall, and the boy was maybe 5’ 9, but he would probably grow more soon. That’s the perks of youth, and at 32, there were no more growing spurs for him. 

Staff was already removing people for the match preparations when he finished showering and putting his clothes back. “Get your ass in the staff area or get out, Cameron!” someone screamed from a Zamboni and he got himself into the upper floors, close to the VIP box area. Only family and rich people were usually in the boxes, but he could sneak around and see if there was an empty place to sit and watch the match.  People started to get in the boxes and he said hello to a couple of doctors, some wives, kids. The physical therapy nurse Angela waved at him, she was Afro-American and in her late twenties, even when she was petite in size, she had arms that could break trees. It was useful when your patients were the average of 6 feet tall and 200 pounds. She also had a wife, that was nice, and she was around so Dan just stuck with her. He is technically not staff for the Voyageurs, but this building was his headquarter anyways and nobody had complained in the last 7 years. Dan grabbed his phone and told what just happened with new center star Harley Marshall to his friends. 

Dan: Legit question, is it legal?

Herbert: You can’t

Garret: He is forbidden from their matches, what’s the problem?

Herbert: Players move teams, it’s not ok. No, you can’t @Dan

Garret: Sneak out!!!

Herbert: If you sneak out, I’m not defending you in a jury.

Dan sighed disappointed, they cannot mingle with the players, even if such a player is from his city and he cannot be a ref for him, or even if the player dresses so good… and has such beautiful eyes. There was a scream, Dan looked worried at the door of the box where all the staff was sitting.

“What’s happening in there?” 

“Marshall’s brother, Kenneth Marshall the football player superstar.” Said  Angela. "Damn, what a mountain of a man." Dan peeked between the people; Kenneth was an even bigger version of Harley. “We are getting the Arena sold out because of him more than the actual match. I mean, since they let Hollander go, they weren’t selling out tickets.”

“Is it true?”

“Yes, there was an uproar but after everything calmed down… Hollander was our star… and he is not here anymore.”

“Now we have the Marshalls.”

Dan grabbed his phone again to text about the other Marshall, while he was writing he got a phone call. The match was about to start, the host was already hyping the people in the arena and the cameras were on, but he went to the hall to pick up the phone. 

“Hello?” 

“I wanted to check if you were going to sneak out or not.” 

Dan laughed and he could hear Garret laughing too. “I don’t know! should I? I could get my ass kicked.”

“I would totally sneak if it was me.”

“Well, I already know you don’t play by the rules, mostly.” 

“Only with you.” 

Two eternal seconds passed, the corridor behind the boxes was now empty and only the one he came out was open. Someone got out to the toilets, the music was booming in the ice.

“The match is going to start.”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Read you in the chat. And go to the party!”

“Well, you are making me self-conscious now, asshole!” 

Garret made an evil witch laugh. “Maybe that’s the plan all along! No, seriously, make friends, get your ass out of your house and have fun in the match. Bye!”

“Bye! Love you!”

“I hate you!” 

He hung up the phone, and after a deep breath went back inside the box. Angela was there looking with a grin, when he sat with her, she hugged his arm. Damn, she could totally break his arm right now. 

“Boyfriend?”

“Friend. I don’t fuck with married people.”

“Oh, shit no.” She said, sipping her coke. “Been there, done that, don’t recommend it.”

“Holy shit, tell me!” 

Chapter Text

Forty-five minutes was the walk between his house and Harley’s house, and he probably thought of going back home twice per minute. He looked at the building, it was ridiculous, it was a fucking castle. He was accustomed to the eccentricities of the wealthy players, who lived in expensive penthouses, but this was a modern castle… or something like it. It had a couple of towers and was located by the lake. The black gate was opened, revealing what looked like a luxury car yard with several Land Rovers and sports cars already parked. Dan groaned and turned around. This was not his style. He had a good salary, but it would never afford a Lambo. Actually, he lived so close to the airport that he mostly travelled in a taxi. Dan turned around on the beautifully stoned pavement and confronted a massive man with shiny blue eyes and a long, thick beard. 

“Oh! Hello, are you going in? Nice to meet you, I’m Harley’s brother, Kenneth. Let’s go!” Dan didn’t have time to answer him, the man got an arm around his shoulders and pushed him inside. It seems being pushy was a family trait. The house was not medieval themed, thank God, but it was all in warm browns and grays. “Harley! Hey you, dumbass. One of your boys was outside.” 

Harley was chatting with a couple and their two kids by the sofa, where a big TV was running Mario Kart. Dan breathed, relaxing a bit. Kids are here, so that means it’s a family-friendly evening. Harley smiled at them and jumped over the sofa. The kids burst into laughter and stopped in front of them. He looked full of energy, even after losing his first match; he looked like a real golden retriever. “Don’t! He is just an adorable boy, and you need to get out more asap!” He thought. It seems his friends were getting more and more comfortable with lifting restrictions, so maybe he did need to get out more if he was ogling the player that much. 

“Kenneth, you know the house, go grab a beer. Dan! Come, follow me.” It was the second time a Marshall brother had grabbed him to push him around, and Dan was still thinking whether he liked it or not. Harley took him to an oversized deck with a pool and some chairs, where a group of people were mingling already. He saw a lot of the Vanguard’s players, but then looked more… There was Angela, sipping on a drink and eating olives. By her side were her wife and one of the doctors. A couple of the intern girls from the office were there too, and three boys whose faces he recognized, but couldn’t place. 

“I invited a lot of staff people. These are the ones that could get here on short notice.” 

Harley looked so proud of himself that Dan couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips together to suppress a smile. 

“Why would you do that?”

“Someone told me that it’s not ok to mingle with players, but there are not only players in here.”

Harley smiled and bit his tongue, like he knew he was bending the rules on purpose. One of the young defenders grabbed Harley from behind and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. 

“Best idea ever, Marshall! You are already worth the pay. I was feeling pretty low, but have you seen those chicks there? The ones from the office? They are…”

“Careful, Robert,” Dan said, his internal ref showing up. The defense looked at him, confused, trying to place him, and opened his eyes in surprise, let Harley go, and straightened. 

“Holy sh… Yes, sir! How the hell did you get a ref?” Robert whispered, Harley started to walk, and gestured to Dan to follow him. 

“Let me get you a tour.”

The house had three stories, multiple rooms for playing, a room full of pictures of the Marshall family, and a sleeping room just for his parents, which was cute. “He is not cute, he is just a family man. The Marshalls are just family people.” They went to the cellar, and there was a big wine room, where Harley confessed that he had no idea what was inside, and his own home cinema. In between those rooms, a hall with a glass window to the garage, filled with bikes. 

“This is my favourite part of the house.”

“You like bikes?” 

“They are beautiful, and I like to take a moment to be alone, and drive. It’s fun.”

“And what do you do to relax, Harley?”

“My other favourite part of the house, this is why I bought it.”

The home cinema had around ten big comfortable chairs and three sofas behind, in an elevated part. Harley sat on the middle sofa, grabbed a tablet, turned on the lights, and started something that looked like Netflix. However, it wasn’t Netflix, because all the movies were new and still in theaters. Harley moved, which gave him space to sit with him. 

“You have your own cinema… Impressive, it has been so long since I’ve gone to the movies. I used to go a lot before.”

“Covid?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I’m impressed, the recommendations were left already, why do you still follow them?”

Dan thought about it; it was nice to follow them, but as an extrovert, staying at home made him feel almost insane. He moved to Pierre’s house for a couple of months, just out of pure boredom. His friends were the most important thing, so he just endured the restrictions. They had been more relaxed lately… or maybe they saw him bored as hell.

“Well, I have a group of friends, other referees. A couple of them are still very, very obsessed with it, and we have been sharing houses when we travel, so I kept them.”

“But you came tonight. And what do you do? What does a ref do to have fun?”

“I have the most boring life. I’m just training and travelling.”

“When do you train? In the Arena?” Harley sat closer to Dan on the sofa and reclined, getting comfortable.

“Sometimes, in the afternoon, when you guys leave, the other skaters take over. We don’t have that much time, we don’t have home games , so I’m always out. If I’m lucky, I work in Ottawa, Boston, or Toronto, and it’s not that bad. Especially since COVID, I've been driving a lot because I don’t like taking public transport, and I use those free days to drive to the farthest teams. If I have time, I will go to the ice and visit the figure skaters. I cannot mingle with the hockey players, but they are also fun.”

“With the boys?”

Dan raised his eyebrows, waiting for the punchline, but Harley was just there, with his dumb smile, an arm on the top of the sofa, hand resting on his cheek. Harley must have seen something in his face because he looked concerned. 

“Sorry, I just. It doesn’t matter. So you stay on the ice all the time.”

Dan left out a nervous giggle. “I have liked ice and snow since I was a kid. I was made for the cold, what can I say? It’s like being in a different world.”

Harley’s eyes changed for a second, and his mouth opened a bit. Dan wanted to look behind, to see what he was looking at with that much feeling, but he was pretty sure they were alone in the room. Harley nodded and answered, somehow his voice was lowered, as if in a whisper. 

“I get into the ice, and everything looks like a movie, and I can be part of it for a few minutes… Then I got back home and all this,” He said, pointing up to the noisy living room, the sound muffled by the home cinema. “I like a good party, but it feels. Doesn’t feel real. This doesn’t feel real. You don’t look like you are real.” 

Harley moved his free hand, and his index finger caressed Dan’s hand. It was so gentle, so soft, that it made Dan’s stomach flutter. It was at that moment that he realized how much he was missing the physical touch of someone, the eyes of someone in him. His heart started racing, and a little voice inside of him made him jump to his feet, a smile gone from his face. Referee Cameron took over the situation. 

“I’m going to stop this right now.” He didn’t even think about how his hand went between them, as he does when he is working.

“What’s wrong? We are just talking.”

“I don’t know who you think I am in several layers, Marshall.”

“Marshall ?”

“Why do you think the Voyageurs got you?”

“Because Hollander left.” Dan looked at him from above, in silence for three seconds, and marched out the door of the home cinema. The sofa leather cracked when Harley stood up. Harley ran to the door, trying to stop him, but they just bumped into the doorframe. 

“Wait, wait!”

“Hollander would have never left. He was shunned because he was gay. I’m gay, it’s public, never hide it, but I’m also older than you and a referee. My job is literally not to take shit from people like you. If you wanted some boy to make fun of, or if this is part of some hazing, I don't know, I don't care. But you got it wrong with me.”

“It’s not… and you are not that old, I searched.”

Dan was already walking towards the stairs to the main living room, putting on his jacket. A few families were already leaving, so he found his way. Some of the players were staying for longer, and the music was already louder than it was before. “ Are you leaving, ref? Goodbye, ref! ” some of the staff, maybe it was Angela, but Dan was not going to stop himself. 

“Dan… Ref, you don’t need to go.”

“Marshall,” Dan said in his most professional voice. “Take a seat.” 

The night was a bit cold and cloudy, the streets were empty, and only a few cars were driving around. It was a Wednesday after all. Dan walked fast, trying to put space between whatever the fuck had happened in that stupid castle. It has to be a joke. There is no way someone is that straightforward or naive. He felt guilty, the way he had been slightly flirting, or feeling so caught in the feelings of a single finger on his skin. He needed to get out, get his ass in some bar, and get laid as soon as possible. He took out his phone to check when he would be heading back to New York and pay a visit to the Kingfisher. Maybe that Alex guy was free. 

“Dan!” He looked confused, a black bike with a biker in a dark brown jacket and a full black helmet. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“I told you to take a seat.”

“I’m sitting.” 

Harley took his visor off and pointed to the bike. Dan forced his lips not to smile, and called out to his own brain, “We are angry! We are not yet sure what his deal is! Stop falling!”. He didn’t stop walking, and Harley followed him.

“Please, wait, I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I got carried away. I… I saw you and I got a bit of a crush. Well, you are really cool. You are a good friend, you love to be on the ice, which I do too. You like training, I like that too! You liked my home cinema, come on, Dan. I was not joking, I just thought you felt the same way.”

“Whatever my feelings are, they would not change the fact that I could get my career, and damn, your career too, destroyed. Your current team kicked Hollander’s ass; he was lucky enough to have a place in Ottawa. Do you ? Would the NHL keep me if I’m fooling around with players? The fuck not, Harley.”

Harley’s eyes smiled, and his voice sounded a bit more optimistic.  

“I know! I know this is not the best case scenario, believe me. You can go out and find hundreds of men better than me, but I can’t.” Dan doubted that very much; this man was the perfect combination of the American dream and a golden retriever. “I have a family legacy, I’m the fourth Marshall in some professional sport. I cannot… It’s not easy. And I thought we would have that in common, too! We don’t want this to be public, we can keep it low, we are on the same page.”

“What is this? There is nothing here.”

“You didn’t say you don’t feel the same. Let me take you home, please.”

“I’m here already.”

Dan pointed to a group of buildings that were condos. He lived in a modest two-bedroom apartment, and his only request when he bought it was: a gym, close to the airport. Dan went to open the door to the hall, and Harley ran behind him, leaving his bike behind. There was not much left for Harley, so he tried one last time. Harley grabbed Dan’s hand and took the helmet off.

“I’m not the only one, isn’t it? You knew why I was inviting you, and you came. Is it not only me, is it?”

“Harley, the problem…”

“Forget the problems! That’s not what I asked! Do you feel the same?”

Feeling? What Dan was feeling was hot on his face. He was feeling so many butterflies in his stomach that it was hurting, and his breathing was getting faster. He cannot say it. If he tells him, this golden boy won’t stop taking whatever he wants like the spoiled kid he is, he won’t think twice of jumping into something stupid. Dan thought about all that, but Harley had already jumped. He threw his helmet to the floor, grabbed Dan’s face with both hands, making him look upwards, and kissed him. 

Harley kissed him slowly, almost shy, his short beard rough against his cheeks. The sound of the rustling of Harley’s jacket when Dan grabbed him in the hall resonated through the stairs. Dan knew that he should push him away, but he went to take a breath and opened his mouth. Harley saw the chance and kissed him with urgency, their tongues meeting, and Dan couldn’t stop himself from making a sound in his disbelief. Dan grabbed Harley closer, the helmet wobbled in the hall after kicking it, and Harley moved away, smiling. 

“I will come back for more.” He said, getting away from the hall. 

He stopped for a second in the array of little post boxes, touched one with one finger, and left the building. Dan felt his face burn. He didn’t know what the hell had happened there for him to stay as a stupid statue. Standing there just because a hot and fun guy made a party for him, flirted, left the party to look for him, and kissed him so damn well.

The first thing he did when he got to his apartment was to look at Harley’s page… 26 is not that young. He played some music, tossed the phone on the bed, and went to the in-suite bathroom, opened the shower, letting his clothes fall into the hamper. Damn, he had been hard the whole time. He looked down at his hard dick with a disapproving look. The warm water was comforting, the music was playing, he closed his eyes and grabbed his dick, stroking slowly. A rivulet of water went through his hand, and he gasped, remembering a single finger going through that same hand, from his fingers, to his knuckles, to the reverse of his hand. Thousands of “what if” scenarios ran through his mind. What if his hand allowed that trailing finger to go through his arm, his body? If Harley wasn’t a player, he would have jumped into that sofa and kissed him right then and there, straddled him, and made a movie himself. His lips still had the feeling of his beard, but still, he wanted to know how it would feel everywhere else. He was a good kisser. His breathing and strokes went faster. How would it feel to have those blue eyes looking upwards at him? He grunted and came hard but too fast. After all, what has happened tonight is the most action he has had in a year. He took a deep breath, then another one. He was a bit depressed because jerking off only made him want to try it again… and this time with Harley.

The music stopped in exchange for a ringtone, and by the time the night ended, he already knew who it was.

“So, how was the night?” The voice from the phone sounded extremely sassy. “Not good if you are answering, I guess,” Dan groaned, lying in his bed with a hand over his eyes and the phone on his chest. 

“I kissed him. Why the fuck did I kiss him?” He had both his hands on his face now. “What is wrong with me?!”

“You are a bad boy. It’s normal.”

“Fuck you, Garret. I’m not a bad boy. I’m a nice guy. I shouldn’t go around kissing players.” The sound of a keyboard sounded through the phone. “What are you doing?” Dan took some pajamas and underwear.

“Looking at his profile. Damn… I mean, you have done worse.” Dan laughed, and Garret was giggling too. “I remember him. I think he played… It was Dallas? Oh yes, he was in Dallas before. He is kind of an ass.”

“Oh, you tell me that now that I’ve already sucked his face.” 

“He is a bit whiny, always complaining about everything. I know I’m not Herbert, but I know when you elbow someone and end up on the floor, you know? He still bitched at me all the way to the box. He is hot, though. I cannot blame you. I mean, you should be careful, this is stupid, but we are stupid anyway. I’m not going to judge you if you want to hit that.” Garret talked and talked, making Dan sleepy.

“Don’t tell the others, ok? They will get pissed.”

“You are not telling Pierre?” Dan gave it a thought. Pierre is like his older brother, but maybe saying “hey, I’m doing this very illegal thing” could make him complicit. If they got caught, perhaps the NHL would shit on Pierre too. Somehow, he didn’t care that it was the case for Garret.

“Maybe? If I do, I will tell him when I see him, anyway. Where are you tonight?” Dan turned down the lights and sank more into his bed.

“Chicago, then St. Louis and Minnesota, back to New Jersey on Sunday for three days. I could visit Wes. I will check his schedule.” Garret stopped talking for a second. “Are you sleepy?” Dan mumbled some affirmation. “Let’s go to sleep.” 

“Sure, good luck in tomorrow’s match. Love you.”

“Sleep well, hate you.”

Chapter Text

The favourite part of Dan’s job as a referee was mentoring junior referees in the AHL, where they would meet to discuss various matches and address common faults and issues. They had two juniors, but they weren’t the kind of people Dan liked, or the other way around, the type that the bosses had proven to favor, which was disappointing. Dan checked his phone; if he wanted to drive to Chicago, he had to leave soon. People stopped him on his way to the parking lot, some of the figure skaters tried to take him to get a drink, and he seriously thought about accepting the offer if it wasn’t for the damn drive. A figure skater would be so lovely, so unproblematic. Not like the man who kept sending him messages. The last one was a selfie of himself in one of his bikes, helmet on, that said “Have you ever seen a Harley in a Harley?” Ok, he chuckled, that was funny. 

“I have never taken a ride on a Harley.” He answered, smiling and walking outside.

“Then you are on your lucky day.” The distinctive reverb of a Harley made him look upwards, and there he was, sitting on his bike, with an extra helmet in his arm, tight jeans, and his brown leather jacket. Angela was leaving too and gave him a squeeze on his arm. 

“Oh my god, is all that for you? I guess it is, because you are drooling.” She said, smiling and saying hello to the mysterious biker. 

“I’m not!” He walked beside Angela for a second. “He is so hot, isn’t he?”

“I mean, I’m not the best at discerning men, but he looks objectively hot. What about without the helmet?”

“Still hot.” 

“Good for you! See you on TV!” Angela left, and Harley slowly approached him, giving him the helmet. The helmets seemed to have some kind of microphone that made it very easy to hear each other. Dan jumped in the back of the Harley.

“I thought you never rode a Harley.” 

“Exactly, but I did ride bikers before.” A puff of air through Dan’s headphones. 

“I need to ask you more questions.” 

 Yes, people would ask questions. They would see cute Dan, with his baby face, his dark red hair, and his adorable voice, and be surprised. He liked their surprised faces, which made him feel better about that doomed phrase “Oh, but you look so young!” that had been following him since school, and he had fought against it. He got into fitness to stop being the scrawny, red-haired boy. He didn’t want to be pretty; he was hot. He went to hockey because he was tough. He would never say no to a bad idea, because he was cool. And it was effortless. However, all his friends had settled down, and yes, they were older, but they had their shit together at his age. He didn’t; he was in a Harley… with a hot hockey player and zero reasons not to do it. Fuck it, if he is going down, he is going down with everything.

 “Maybe I should try riding a Harley with a Harley.”

“Wow. I need you to explain that phrase to me word by word. I was ready to give you a full speech. You have been playing hard to get.”

“I had a conversation with a friend. However, I’m still hard to get; I need to drive tonight. I have to work in Detroit tomorrow.” Harley hummed something like an affirmation and parked in Dan’s parking lot. 

“Do you have time for a chat?”

 Harley entered the apartment with curiosity, taking in the walls and their layout: an open kitchen to the living room, a simple glass table with some papers on it, a black couch, a black console, and white walls. The kitchen had a couple of dishes drying, and the walls had paintings of snowy mountains and lakes. He saw in the next room a hockey T-shirt from the AHL with the name “Renard” on the back. No family pictures except one, not in a spotlight place, of a red-haired 20-something boy surrounded by an old couple, and… was that twig of a boy Dan? It was his face, oh wow, his face hasn’t changed at all. The rest of him, very much. 

Dan opened the fridge, took a couple of drinks for them, and walked to his bedroom. Harley couldn’t stop a smirk and looked around. Similar to the rest of the house, but with a twist: dark wood instead of the black accent, and a large black and white photo on the wall of a muscular man’s back, featuring a tattoo of a fox that covers one side. Harley’s eyes were thin as a line while he followed Dan’s back, rummaging through the drawers, picking out clothes. 

“I need to make myself a bag, but I’m ready for your speech. What were you going to tell me?”

Harley sipped his drink, had everything ready, but Dan picked something from a high shelf, and the t-shirt he was wearing rose, revealing something shiny peeking from under. Harley looked around, like he needed to check that nobody was watching this, only to meet that damn picture again, and he couldn’t believe it. His mind was blank. He must be in hell. The sound of the zipper closing, two golden eyes expectant, but Harley fumbled his words.

 “I was going to bring all the common things we have, how much I like you, how I haven’t been able to sleep properly since we kissed… I was ready to propose that we give ourselves some time. Until the Play-offs, to see what happens and decide then.”  

“Nobody can know. Oh, wait, I told a friend.”

“The one you talked to? I feel I need to thank him.” Dan nodded, sipping from his Coke. “Do you trust him?”

“Yes, with my life. He is in a similar situation. I mean, he is deep in the closet. Are you thou? Does anyone know?” Dan took the bag from the bed, left it on the floor, and sat at the foot of the bed, looking towards Harley, who was crossing his arms nervously. 

“My brother knows, he is worried. Our family is a franchise at this point, all superstars. Our grandpa, our uncle, one of my cousins, my brother, is the biggest star of the family right now, and then it’s me. I’ve not been much of a superstar like my brother, so… ”

Dan grabbed him from the thighs and made him take a step closer. 

“Just out of curiosity, have you had a man before?”

“My family couldn’t manage to get enough pool boys, but what can I say. They are in bathing suits all day!” Both of them smiled. “If you think you need to teach me, I don’t think so. I may be rusty, as it’s been a long time since I could travel somewhere. If you’re thinking about a long-term relationship, then it’s a no. My family relies on being a role model for certain parts of the states, and an official boyfriend would be… maybe too much.”

“I don’t know if I like that your family puts pressure on you.” 

He has heard of way too many stories of families manipulating, blaming, or just being blatantly aggressive. Not like he knew about it. His family’s reaction was no reaction. Not in a funny way, but literal. When he came out, nobody was on the other side of the closet. 

 “Well, I love them very much, and it comes with some perks, like this.” Harley took his phone and called. “Hello, it’s Harley. I wanted to make a request… Montreal to Detroit, tomorrow morning around 11 am. Yes, I’ll wait around… 11 pm; that should be okay. Two people, Dan Cameron and I, that’s all.” Dan crossed his arms this time, looking suspiciously. “Ok, we will be there. Fixed!”

“What did you fix?”

“I got our family private jet to the airport. We have to be in the fixed base at 10:45, flying at 11:15, landing in Chicago two hours later, then flying back after the match.”

“What?” Dan chuckled. What had this man done now? “What about you?” 

“I have free tomorrow, fly the next day to Nashville. We will be alone, private boarding, only the two of us and the plane staff. You can follow your guidelines and rest tonight. I’ll get to stay with you a bit longer.”

Dan stopped for a second, thinking about what just happened. He had a beautiful man, who picks him up from work, calls a fucking private jet so he doesn’t have to drive or spend hours wearing a mask and being scared of people coughing around him, and wants to spend his free day flying across the sky just to spend time with him.

“Oh, I don’t think we are resting tonight.” Dan extended a hand and grabbed one of Harley’s, dragging him to the bed, the other hand in the hem of his jeans. 

“Wait a second, I want to confirm something.” 

Harley gestured, and Dan moved a bit backwards, more into the middle of the bed. Harley was hovering over him, and Dan couldn’t stop himself, grabbed him from the neck, and kissed him. Harley didn’t stay too much in his mouth and went for his neck, kissed him over his t-shirt down to his chest, trailing kisses, followed the line of his abs, and pushed the t-shirt up. Harley puffed a giggle and looked upwards, to Dan’s face, the confidence and security he radiated, hands under his head, slight smirk on his face. 

“Any problem, Marshall?”

“No, sir.” 

Harley went back to kissing the abs until he reached the navel and a golden piercing of a star. He took the t-shirt and removed it from Dan’s body, looking at the side of his back, where a big half-back tattoo of a fox in full color was sitting. On his right arm, the Sochi Olympics logo. Harley took his shirt off, still over Dan, touching him until he got to the piercing. He passed the thumb against it, and Dan shivered and gasped. 

“I’m ticklish.”

“You’re ticklish, so you get a piercing.”

 Dan grinned. Harley stopped breathing. Something in that face told him this was dangerous. This was going to fuck him in so many different ways. Dan took his pants off, leaving only his black underwear. Harley went down with more tattoos on his thighs. A mountain with a lake making a diamond on its right. A cluster of small tattoos of lucky symbols in his left trailing to his inner thigh. Harley went directly to kiss them, taste them, while stroking Dan’s dick through his underwear for some time, until he grabbed the seam of the underwear and removed it. Harley smiled. Dan’s hair is red, but not light. Harley thought Dan might be dyeing his hair to be even cooler. What he had in front of him convinced him that Dan was a hundred percent naturally red-haired. Harley grabbed his dick and gave him a lick, slow, from base to tip. Dan groaned and moved his hips. He was just that fucking beautiful, his movements graceful. Harley got closer and got him in his mouth. He smelled of wood and pine, as he had just come from the forest. Having Dan like this, spread in the bed, cursing between breaths, was playing with fire. Harley extended a hand to his belly and caressed the piercing in his belly button. 

“Fuck! You learnt that too fast!” Dan said between gasps, reclining over his elbows. Music sounded. “Shit! No, wait, I will turn it off.”

“Do you need to pick it?”

“Not really. It’s just a friend.” 

“My new best friend?” Dan tried to reach his pants on the floor and grabbed the phone. Harley smiled, stroking Dan. “Pick it up.” Dan gave him the same grin he had before, opened his flip phone, and clicked the answer button, looking straight into Harley’s eyes, while he went back to sucking his dick. The voice sounded high enough for Harley to understand. 

 “Hello, asshole, I was thinking you may need company driving at night.”

“I’m flying. I’m at home.” He needed to breathe in between phrases. 

“Oh, ok. Sure, so how is it going? Did you talk with your crush?” Harley chuckled with a full mouth, which made Dan chuckle too, with a finger in his lips. 

“Shut up! Yes. Sure, I did.”

“So… are you into him?” Harley kept stroking him, but went up to his navel and licked the piercing. Dan fell into the bed, one hand in his mouth, trying not to make a sound and failing catastrophically.

“Ah!... He may be into me pretty soon.” Harley couldn’t stop himself, so he graved part of the duvet and laughed there.

“Are you fucking him right now, Cameron?” Dan punched Harley and laughed with him. “Oh, you fucking disgusting freak. I’m hanging up. Fuck, I hate you.”

“I love you, Garret!” 

“Love you too, Garret!” Harley shouted. 

“Fuck off, both of you.”

“He sounded furious.”

“Don’t worry, he deserves it.” 

 Dan closed his eyes while Harley went back to work him up, that last phrase resonating in his mind. He sounded furious. He deserves it. Dan’s mind followed the pleasure; his mouth was so good, it went faster, one hand in his balls while the other hand grabbed his ass. Dan arched his back, holding himself with a hand in the back of the green couch, because he was a second away from coming and falling from the damn couch, so he took a deep breath and moaned when the pleasure hit him for what he felt an eternity, not a drop wasted. God, that was good. Dan opened his eyes to find Harley lying in his bed, smirking, and cleaning his lips with the flick of his tongue. He picked Harley up from below his head and dragged him up.
 “I think I did it well enough.” Harley lay over him while they kissed; it was sweat and himself, it was everything. 

“You did very well, let me pay you the favor back.”

 This was a new part of the airport that Dan had never visited before. And he had been in a big bunch of airports. They had a personal agent who checked their IDs and passports. Personal check of luggage, which was only a bag. They went straight to the private jet, no waiting time. Two pilots were welcomed at the entrance, but quickly went back to the cabin to work out all the procedures. A 50-year-old man, dressed in what appeared to be a driver’s uniform, emerged from behind the jet and approached them. 

“Hello, Harley! Good morning.”

“Dan, this is Jon. He is our travel assistant, taking care of our jet and the rest of our cars, yachts, and anything for all our travel needs.” 

“Yachts. Plural.” Dan thought. 

“Stay in the chairs during the landing and takeoff, otherwise, if you need anything. There are some trail bars and drinks. Do you want to have lunch?” 

“Don’t worry, we will find something in Chicago. It’s a short trip, have fun with the pilots. Let’s take off as soon as possible.”  

The jet had 10 comfortable seats, big blue couches around tables, ready with screens on the ceiling. They also had a console with a small TV set prepared on one side. The whole jet was in blue and yellow, the colors of Kenneth’s team; it was the most comfortable place in the world. The pilots and Jon sat together in the pilot’s cabin and closed the door, leaving them be. When they were in the air, Jon’s voice sounded from the speakers.  

“We are at a constant altitude. You can get out of the chairs if you want. If you need me, please call out for me.”

“Thank you, Jon. Ok, come with me! Time for a tour.” Dan was still trying to process that the jet they were flying with needed a tour. “So this is the living area, behind this door is the bathroom with a shower, and behind this door…”

The second door gave way to all the rest of the back of the jet in one single room, with a small two-person bed. It was small, but it was also a double bed on a plane. 

“Why do you have a bed in a jet?!”

“My brother said he cannot sleep comfortably on the couches, and what my brother needs, my brother gets.”  Harley let himself fall into bed. “Can I ask you a personal question?” Dan moved his hand. “Are you part of the High Mile Club?”

“No… Do you know if they accept applications?” 

Harley grabbed him from the hips into a hug, his face just in his belly, and he bit the piercing through the clothes. Dan’s legs trembled, and Harley hugged him firmly. 

“I think you can apply right now.” 

 The travel back was calmer. Dan was exhausted, so they used the bed for its primary purpose. He was sleepily writing on his phone, while Harley caressed his side calmly and picked a film from the collection. He could get used to this kind of life.  

“We didn’t talk about us,” Dan said, head over Harley’s shoulder. “You said to give us until the play-offs?” 

“Yes. I’m going to be super busy during the play-offs; you may be super busy too. It’s going to be tough even if we were in the best of situations.” 

Dan was thinking about what the best of situations looked like, because there is no way they could be together publicly if they wanted to keep their jobs. This was not about being gay, or at least not mainly. This was illegal for the federation. It’s forbidden for referees and players to become too “amicable,” so imagine if they knew he was fucking one of them. There is zero chance of a sudden passionate kiss, zero chance of a nice come-out message, and it would be disastrous if they got in video. It wouldn’t affect only them; people would complain that all the games he had worked as a ref were somehow not legal, because he could be playing in favor of the Voyageurs. This was so dangerous that it could mess up his life. A little voice in his brain, the little devil that has been controlling his bad decisions, said, “What life?” and he didn’t know what to answer, because what life? Dan looked at Harley’s blue eyes and soft beard. 

“We have to be extra careful.”

Harley smiled and kissed him. “We will.” 

Dan picked up the phone and wrote. “Hey, don’t tell the others about my man.”

Garret: Your man?

Dan: Yes

Garret took some time to answer; he was not writing, but he did read it. Harley looked through the NHL page and found Garret among all the referees. He looked younger, with short black hair.

“Is this one? I don’t recognize him.”

“That photo is from Sochi. He has longer hair now, starting to get gray.”  A message pinged in his phone.

Garret: I would never stop you from a bad idea.

Dan puffed a bit of air from his mouth but wrote back.

Dan: HAHAHAHAHA

Dan: Going to sleep, love you

Garret: hate you

Chapter Text

Wes: Did I see you in the benches? 

Wes: You didn’t tell me you were in Ottawa

Wes: Do you want to hang out with Pierre and me?

Dan: I’m already waiting for the bus, sorry

Dan: Next time, good job today!

Another ping of his phone, Dan was getting a bit restless. This time it came in French. 

Pierre: Renard, what are you doing in the arena?

Pierre: I’m making steak. Come home. 

Dan: Angela invited me, and I’m already on the bus.

Just when he finished, a call came. “ For fucks sake, I’m done. ” He hung up the call and turned it off.

The first Ottawa-Montreal match was brutal. Everyone in the city attended tonight’s match. Fans waved banners and posters of Hollander. The stadium trembled when the Voyageurs went to the ice, and thousands of fans booed at them. It was a weird feeling for Dan. He loved this arena, are you joking? The fans were waving pride flags everywhere and cheering on their queer players. However, the faces of the Vanguard were sad and serious, names being called around “Biggots! Bootlickers!” among other slurs, screaming towards them. Sure, Dan knew a few of them, and people were 100% accurate in those cases, but others like Hayden Pike and J.J. were still friends with Hollander, and then there was Harley. The one in the same position as Hollander was last year, or even worse, called a “bigot” while stoically trying his best, even when all that shiny energy he always brings to the team was gone tonight. Dan’s heart broke. 

Of course, they lost. The team tried to keep it cool on their way to Ottawa, but the moment they hit the ice and saw Hollander in the center, Rozanov on his left, and Barret at his right, it was game over. The Voyageurs made the biggest mistake in the history of the NHL. They gifted a superstar-genius-of-his-era player, for half his rate, to the team that had the second-best player and their job child. That’s without saying how stupid good their goalie was, but what could anyone expect if your goalie trains daily with those three monsters? Any other player must feel like an amateur for Hayes. The Admirals should watch out, because Ottawa is ready to win the next 10 Stanley Cups. 

Angela was waiting by his side, calling on the phone, when the bus stopped in front of them. It was a two-floor bus, with 10 seats below, where usually the medical staff would sit. The players began to exit the arena, with a few already grabbing ice packs. Two were limping, and the doctor was handling a bunch of X-rays. Angela ran to help. 

“Can I help? Looks like you went to war.” Dan offered himself to coach Theriault. 

“We did! Fucking assholes. If it’s okay with you, could you grab all the papers, X-rays, and other relevant documents? Maybe help with some bags? They are trying to look strong, but I’m sure they are hurting a lot.”

Dan helped a few of the players, took some bags, and helped the other staff members. They would need more ice packs, so he went inside again and grabbed a bunch. Harley was by the door, lying against the wall, head low. Dan looked around; they were alone. 

“Hey, how are you?” 

Harley made a face. “I’m not going to lie to you, it hurts. Nothing broke, my X-ray is clear, but shit! That was insane.”  

“Can I see?” 

“I don’t know where to show you. I have this one.” He showed a red and purple mark on his ribs. Dan caressed it; it was warm and inflamed. “Then there is this one.” Another blue mark on his collarbone, Dan swore under his breath, “ merde,” and Harley chuckled. “It’s hot when you speak French. I’m pretty sure I have another one in the thighs.” Dan caressed Harley’s hand like he did those weeks ago, just one finger passing through the back of Harley’s hand, softly.

“Wow!! Careful, Marshall! You should not be taking your pants off in front of a referee!” Dan jumped a step back. Strong russian accent, and a hand over Harley’s shoulder. He gasped a bit, and the big Russian laughed. “Oh, sorry.” 

“Rozanov, what happened today was bad in several layers. I will talk with the other referees about this match.” Dan said sternly, and Ilya looked at him, up and down, giggling. “It’s not funny, Rozanov.”  

“It’s a bit funny. Boss, you more than anyone should know they deserved it.” Ilya looked at him with his piercing blue eyes and his crooked smile. Then he looked at Harley. “Having to bring extra refs to one of our matches, it’s an honor. It’s why you were going to take your pants off, Marshall? I mean, the storage room is just there.” 

Dan kept his face. There is nothing you could say to a red-haired referee that he hasn’t listened to before. Been there, done that. He just kept it serious and shook his head. Harley was having more issues keeping his chill. His eyes were about to pop out of his head. Dan gingerly moved Ilya to look at him, getting Harley out of his way.

“I wouldn’t need to be here if this weren’t a high-risk match, because your whole team decided to behave like toddlers.”

Ilya giggled. “Sure, boss.”

Angela entered the arena, loudly calling to them. “Everybody is on the bus, only you two are missing. Let’s go, is that Rozanov?”

“A fan?” Ilya looked at the nurse with a grin. She looked disgusted. “I can autograph one of his bruises.” Angela flipped him, while Harley finally reacted.

“Fuck you, Rozanov,” Harley said, walking away, pushing Rozanov’s shoulder, followed by Dan. 

“Tell your coach to expect a call.” 

They walked to the bus, where everyone was already occupying the upper floor. The doctor stayed there with the players. Angela moved Harley to the first floor of the bus. She retook a look at the bruises; they were becoming more and more purple. 

“Off with the t-shirt. I will bandage some ice packs.” Angela grabbed a bunch of bandages and ice packs from Dan’s hand and fixed Harley as much as she could. “I’m going to find the bag with ibuprofen and…” she sighed. “Give them away like candy, I guess.” She went upstairs and talked loudly. “Ok, team, everyone grab their favorite drink and pass around the pills! Sharing is caring!” She popped her head into the stairs. “Dan, pass this pack down here. J.J. is allergic to this type of pill; there are blue ones in my bag by the window.”

 Dan was a bit sad for J.J. and Pike. Since Hollander left, they didn’t sit with the rest of the team. Pike didn’t get any pills; he was the least injured of the bunch, but he was looking through the window with sadness. When Dan looked through, he saw a bunch of Centaurs far away, on their way to celebrate. Pike took a deep breath, grabbed some headphones, and focused on his phone. J.J. was already snoring on Pike’s shoulder. Harley sat by the window, leaving a free seat by his side. There was another sit after that one, by the other window. The bus started moving, and Angela went down the stairs with a tired face and her braids in a high bun. She sat in the other window seat and looked at Dan, standing. Harley pointed to the seat by him, but he shivered. 

“Oh, are you cold?” Angela asked. 

“Well… I have like, three ice packs on me, so yeah. Cold.” Dan chuckled. 

“Ok, if you are going to get hypothermia, you can let the packs go, I will get your jacket, where is it? Upstairs?” 

“I will go. Sit, and rest, Angela.” Dan went upstairs. It looked like a post-war image. Half of them looked dead, probably just sleeping. The rest looked like they had seen horrors. He grabbed the brown jacket and went down, putting it over Harley, giving him a shy touch on the process. He couldn’t even move and looked very intensely at Dan. 

“I’m exhausted, I’m going to sleep.” 

Dan nodded, and Harley made himself comfortable, almost covering all his head with the warm fuzzy jacket. Dan grabbed his phone and turned it on again. His friends were joking around in the chat, and he joined in, but the jokes weren’t landing tonight. He still wrote as if he was laughing in there, like a liar. Garret called again, but he wasn’t in the mood, and the bus was as silent as a morgue. He hung up the call and texted him, simply saying “later”. Garret didn’t insist, so he went to sleep.  

The next morning, Harley was sitting by the kitchen island of his castle in grey sweatpants, with a bunch of papers in front of him, his hands crossed on his chest. Dan was sitting on the kitchen island, documents in his hand, wearing gym shorts and a long-sleeve t-shirt; music in the background from the TV, coffee in the making.

“I’m leaving tomorrow and then back on the 12th.” 

“C’est la bordel, I’m just out that day. Pittsburgh, Columbus, Detroit, back home the 18th.” 

“I’m leaving on the 20th afternoon, and we are home on the 23rd, but I will stay in Texas for Thanksgiving. Then, back for two weeks, then back to Texas for Christmas.”

“Doesn’t matter because I’m leaving on the 22nd, and then I’m going to Vancouver for Christmas and Ottawa for New Year’s. This is brutal! How did Rozanov and Hollander make it??!!” Dan threw the bunch of papers on the kitchen island, and a few flew to the floor. Harley rested his face on one of his hands while resting the other on Dan’s thigh.

“They probably had full weeks overlapping. You travel every single week. It’s wild. You only stay at home for a few days, and then leave again.” 

Dan took a big breath. “Traveling this much was funnier when I didn’t have a boyfriend.” 

“We are not seeing each other in… two months?” 

“Basically, until January, a few days, and then it’s the all-stars, fait chier. ” Harley caressed the visible little tattoos in Dan’s thigh, all the good luck symbols, hoping they would bring him luck. “I wish I could go with you to Texas.” 

“Me too. I’m going to try to tell my parents about you. See how we can deal with this problem.” Harley groaned and rested his head in Dan’s lap. “It’s going to be awful.”

“You think they won’t support you?”

“They won’t hate me, I’m very sure, they always try their best. They won’t love it either. Some of them already know, but they are very hard on ignoring the issue.” 

“I need another tattoo then. I need more luck.” Harley chuckled. 

“Is that what they are? Times you wanted to get lucky?”

Dan caressed him, his light beard between his fingers. 

“All the times I hoped. This was my first boyfriend, who was like… 15 years older than me.” Dan pointed at a horseshoe by his knee, while Harley looked at him with a confused look. “I know, I know. This one was by the time I thought my brother would die.” He said way too nonchalantly, pointing to a wishbone. “This one was when I wanted to get drafted in the NHL.” This one was already going into the inner and upper thigh, a four-leaf clover. “This one was yet another boyfriend.” It was a coin flip. “His name was Cash, I’m that dumb.” Harley snorted a laugh. “This one was the second time I thought my brother would die.” A ladybird. “This one was the day my uncle died, and I decided to become a ref and move to Montreal.” A red mushroom. “This silly one was when I wanted to get selected to the Olympics.” Dan pointed to an acorn. “And this…” showing basically under his underwear was a black cat; it was a settled tattoo, but it looked crispier than the others. 

“Aren’t black cats bad luck?” 

“Yes, this one is in honor of the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” Dan looked like he had gotten lost for a second.

What the fuck, are you trying to bite my leg off? - I don’t want to see them. - They are part of me, you like it or not. - What about me? Am I part of you?

He came back and looked at Harley, placing kisses on his leg, his beard brushing against his skin. Dan looked at him as if Harley was a wish come true. Harley is in here, only for him; he is tangible. Harly picks him up from work, listens to him, and kisses him to sleep. His eyebrows drawn together, worried, while his eyes pleaded. Harley looked at him, knowing something was wrong, and jumped for a hug, while Dan grabbed him with his legs and arms, like he needed to hang onto him, desperate. 

“I want this to work out. I need this to work out.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Harley said, kissing his cheeks, nose, and forehead. “We will make it work our way. Hey, look at me.” Harley’s eyes were shiny, and he blushed for a second. “I’m embarrassed and scared of saying anything wrong. You are the first person I have had this type of relationship with, and I have no idea  how this works, if there is a time frame or anything, but one day… one day I will be brave, and I will tell you what’s in my mind.”

Dan hugged him tighter. It was enough for now; if Harley had strength for both of them, it was enough right now. “What should I tattoo?” 

“You should not tattoo other people’s things in your body!”

“I already have four men tattooed in my body, and for now, you are doing better than them. You deserve a name in the wall of fame.”

“You are insane.”

“You already know that.”

“Ok.” Harley thought for a second and kissed him on the lips. Something lucky. “I want a shooting star.”

Dan smiled. It was perfect. "Tres bien"

“Can I ask you a question? Where are you spending Christmas in Vancouver?”

“My family is in Vancouver. My parents used to live in Ottawa, but my brother fell ill and moved there. I stayed in Ottawa, but I go to see them from time to time. He is… maybe 12 years older than me?”

“Wow! Were you a surprise baby?” Harley got into the kitchen and grabbed two cups of coffee. 

“Something like that. My brother has been very sick, always, with cancer. Since I was very young, they tried for another baby in case I could help with a possible transplant or donation.” Harley looked worried; this looked like an issue for Dan. “I got the lucky genes, I was healthy, I was fit, I can eat whatever I want, and I’m blood type A, like my brother. Except I’m A negative.”

“I assume he is not.” Dan nodded. 

“They left me with my uncle when my brother got worse, and they moved to Vancouver. Somehow, I failed to be the spare parts. We are not close; we still try to see each other once a year or so. I will stay for a day, come back on the 26th, and spend New Year’s in my friend’s house in Ottawa.” 

Harley took a deep breath. “I understand. I love my family; they are everything to me. I talk with my nieces every day. We group FaceTime all the time, and I even know all my second-degree cousins. It is a bit hard to be the mediocre sibling, though.” 

Dan looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “You are the center of one of the best teams in the NHL! In which world is that being mediocre?” 

“I’m not Shane Hollander. I already know I’m going to fall short of the team’s expectations. Nobody can be Hollander, and the only one close to him is Rozanov. It’s like the rest of us are in a different league. My brother is the Hollander of the NFL. My cousin? WNBA top 10. I’m not the king, I’m the spare.” Dan cheered his cup into Harley’s.

“For the spares.”

EXTRA 

Power Play Gays Group Chat (5)

Ilya, Shane, Barret, Harris, Hayden

Ilya added Hayden to the group.

Ilya: Hayden! My friend!

Hayden: Fuck you, Rozanov. What do you want? 

Ilya: Not a congratulations for kicking your ass?

Hayden: I promise you I’m going to block your number

Barret: :)

Ilya: But then I cannot tell you I met your new center 

Hayden: And what?

Ilya: He is SO gay 

Hayden: What the fuck, Ilya!!!

Barret: :O

Hayden: Shane, your husband is being a dick again!

Shane: Is this about Marshall?

Hayden: You know?

Shane: I mean, I hate when he does this, but he has never been wrong

Ilya: He is even gayer than Shane

Barret: ???

Shane: How?

Ilya: At least you tried. He has never had a girlfriend.

Hayden: That’s all you need to say someone is gay…

Ilya: No. He was flirting with the cute ref

Shane: The red-haired one?

Harris: Dan, he is adorable

Barret: D=

Harris: I think I dated his ex

Ilya: Ask him!

Shane: No! Let them be!

Hayden: Wait, they are in the bus in front of me

Ilya: See? I’m right! 

Hayden: Wait a second 

Shane: Let them be!

Shane: This is the kind of thing that stressed the hell out of me when we were in the closet

Hayden: Angelaaa, my angel

Angela: Pike, you are literally in front of me on the bus. What are you doing texting? 

Hayden: I don’t want to wake up J.J. and Marshall, and I need someone to talk about some… gay stuff. 

Angela: OMG, are you coming out? 

Hayden: What? NO! 

Hayden: I think someone is in the closet! 

Angela: One of the boys? 

Angela: Scissor sisters are always there to help the gays

Angela: Who has problems? I can be discreet

Hayden: Do you know anything about the ones at your right? 

Angela: … Shit, finally someone I can talk to! YES.

Angela: I saw Cameron on a bike with someone who casually has the same jacket that Marshall!!!

Angela: I know nothing, but I have eyes, you know?

Hayden: I hate to say it

Ilya: I was right

Hayden: You may be right

Shane: How do you do it??

Ilya: Sharpshooter, you know that sweetheart

Harris: If I had a nickel for every time the Voyageurs had a closeted gay center, I’d have two nickels

Harris: Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice

Barret: xD <3

Chapter Text

The rock moved slowly through the curling area in the arena while three groups of people were playing and cheering. Dan chatted with them because they were pretty good at managing themselves, but kept an eye on the corridor, waiting. The Zamboni was stopped in the middle of the area, bringing in drinks that were probably not allowed in the arena. Dan couldn’t care less and got a can for himself. The driver threw a drink at one of the players just when someone got in, wearing just regular training clothes, a stick, and pucks in their hand. The curling players joked, trying to hide the cans, but Harley just laughed, covering his eyes with a hand. He stopped by the Zamboni, not to get a can himself, but just to be polite. Always be polite with the people that work for you, his dad would say. Dan moved gingerly closer to him, can in his back. 

“Harley Marshall!! I saw you won in Colorado.” Said the Zamboni operator. 

“It was a good winter; we won more than half of the matches, but I’m happy to be back. What’s going on?” 

“Curling practice,” Dan answered. They looked at each other, smiling shyly, trying hard to keep their composure. 

“Nice… Are you going to practice for long? I wanted to practice myself.” 

“We will be here until five, then we are out,” Dan said. 

“Sure, nice. If you don’t mind, I will take care of the other side of the arena.” 

“What are you training, Marshall? Do you need me to bring some nets to divide the arena?” Said the Zamboni operator.

“I got into the All-Star’s hardest shot. I will aim for the other side; they are safe.”

Dan skated around the curling areas, trying to keep an eye on whatever Harley was doing. He had a velocimeter and tried to shoot, then went to check, back to the line, and did it again. His face was not happy, so he serendipitously skated over him and checked the velocimeter. It said 89 mph. Last year’s all-star winner was 103 mph. Marshall skated around him. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s pretty good for the posture you had.” Harley pouted and furrowed. Dan felt a bit guilty. “Sorry. Ok, give me the stick, try this.” 

Dan went to the line, twirled the stick for a second, and then went to his position, going through the process, form, and muscles. He played around with the stick again and then ran and shot. Harley looked at the velocimeter; it was at 88 mph. He felt a bit guilty that the guy, who wasn't a professional, had gotten so close to him. Then he felt worse because that guy was his boyfriend. Dan guided him through the process, setting him up, shooting from an angle, using the torque, lifting the leg... He moved away and let him practice the changes by himself. 

“Come on, Marshall!” He screamed, checking the velocimeter. Harley focused, took everything learnt and shot. Dan cheered, and all the curling players looked at him. Harley felt the energy shift from his legs to his face; he knew it was better, it felt better. “99,5 mph!!” The curling players applauded and cheered, too. 

“Holy shirt! Let me see!” Harley was red in the face, skated to him, and looked at the machine. “How did you do it?”

“I literally did nothing. It was all you.”

“What did you do at the beginning? Something like this?” He said, twirling the stick. “Warming up the stick so it goes smoother?” He said, going back to his position. 

“That much you already knew.” Dan chuckled and looked at the oblivious, cute giant in front of him. Harley looked behind, to the curling players, but they looked focused on their rocks, and gave a look to Dan that clearly said, “Don’t you dare.” Dan rolled his eyes and went to check the velocimeter. He tried a couple more times, averaging around 95 mph. It was a good start, and he kept trying over and over again, while Dan went back to the curling players. The curling teams picked up, and Harley went around, saying goodbye to the very impressed curling players, amazed by how approachable that NHL star was. Dan waited for the last, and Harley whispered, “Starbucks parking?” and Dan nodded and left. 

It was their way of working around, waiting in the Starbucks parking lot with a small warm coffee. It was already night, a flurry of snow glittering by the lamps. Dan looked at the snow; it was beautiful. The sound of a Harley, he grabbed the extra helmet, put it on, and hopped in. It was a fifteen-minute drive through the city, and a lot of the buildings still had the Christmas lights, giving the town a fairy tale view. Dan hugged him while they stopped at a red light, and Harley caressed his arm. They arrived at the castle, parking the bike among the others in the garage. Harley got off, but Dan stayed for a second on the bike, took his helmet off, and went to the driver’s seat. 

“Do you want to learn how to ride?” Harley smiled, and Dan lay on the tank. 

“I was hoping you would take me for a ride.” Harley’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“We just… oh. Oh!” Dan snorted. “I’m sorry, that’s just a bike… You want? That doesn’t look comfortable.”    

Dan shook his head and got off the bike, taking Harley’s hand and going to the cinema room. 

“Is a sofa comfortable enough for you to fuck me?” 

“Sorry if I don’t want you to get hurt, or the bike…”

Dan gasped dramatically, falling onto one of the sofas from the home cinema. “You like your bike more than me! Incredible, worst boyfriend.” 

Harley stopped moving, red in the face, fidgeting with his hands. Dan thought for a second about what had happened. Oh, he maybe gone too far. No, he was sure he had gone too far for his own sake; he was going to say something when Harley interrupted him. 

“I don’t like my bikes more than you.” 

Dan pushed Harley towards him, kissed him, and dragged him to the sofa. 

“Hey, pick a film and let’s not watch it at all.” 

“That sounds very distracting…”

“Oh. My. God. Harley, could you please fuck me already!” Dan laughed, trying to get his brown jacket off, taking his own to the floor. “Also, I want to show you my present.” Harley smiled.

“You shouldn’t, holy cow, you actually did it.”

Dan laughed at the face Harley was making when he took off his pants and showed him a fresh new tattoo of a shooting star in his upper thigh, before the cat, over the acorn and mushroom.

“You are insane, you shouldn’t tattoo people! I don’t know how to feel about your tattoos, to be honest.” Dan rolled his eyes.  

“Why is it always the same complaint? What is wrong with having a wall of fame? And it’s not only boyfriends. Okay, I will look for a nice Christmas present for you next time, now give me mine.”

“I don’t know with that attitude of yours. Let’s go to an actual bed.” Harley took his hand and pulled him from the sofa.

The smell of buttery popcorn was making both of them salivate, while they waited for it to finish popping, with Dan sitting on the kitchen island, his feet kicking. No matter how many times Harley had told him that’s where they cook food. Harley was picking up some drinks and a big bucket.

“How was Christmas?”

“Spent the day with mom, dad, and my brother’s family. They are doing well, and so are the nieces; everything is going well. I guess. I stayed in a hotel, went back to Ottawa the next day.”

“You didn’t spend the night with them?”

“They don’t have enough rooms. It’s not like… It isn’t good, I’m just out of my comfort zone. I had a great time in Ottawa. I stayed with Pierre’s family for three days, and it was so much fun.”

“He looks more family than your actual family.”

“He is. Hannah and I met Pierre when he was finishing his master’s degree at the university. He played for the uni team and got me in. Then he and Hannah hit it off, got married a year later, had Emily and Eloise, and lived happily ever after. They are family.” Dan said, showing photos of him and Pierre in the snow, he and Hannah cooking, and he and the girls skating. “So, tell me. What about your Christmas?”

Harley went into a half-hour-long rant of names that Dan didn’t recognize, because each adult in his house has an average of 4 kids, and Harley had stories about each one of them.

“Maybe next year you could come?”

“Would they be ok?” 

Harley took a deep breath. “We still have a year to get them there. Movie?” 

Dan thought about a year from today; it sounded like an eternity. Life was so strange, and to be honest, Harley had been the longest relationship he had ever had. Damn, he needs that new tattoo because he was dreading the year he had before him. It was going to be such a long year. He needs all the luck he can get.   

Harley started playing, and a film began. Harley would occasionally interject, explaining what was happening during production or sharing some weird fact about the actors. Dan’s head was starting to doze off; it was comfortable to be lying by Harley’s warm body, while covered with a blanket, so comfy he would fall asleep at any second. A very hot actor screamed on the screen. 

“So, that scream, he actually broke a toe…” 

Dan’s phone interrupted him, and Dan jumped from that sleepy doze to awake in a second. Of course, it was that time of the day. Harley should have checked with Dan beforehand, because Garret would call almost every day before going to sleep, and it appears he was in this time zone today.

“Hey! Hello, what’s up?” Dan looked at the screen. “Oh, shit, wait a second.” Dan looked at Harley. “It’s Garret, I’m back in 10.”

“Say hello from me. I will pause the film.” 

“Don’t worry, don’t pause, enjoy. Hey, Harley says hello. Garret says Happy New Year!” Dan left the room and went to sit on top of the little island by the winery. “You didn’t say happy new year to me, you asshole.” 

Harley scrolled through his phone. It was getting late, and he had training tomorrow, then extra work for the playoffs… He just turned the screen off. 

“Pierre has the hotel under control; he is paying. Don’t worry, he has it figured out.” Dan came inside again, and Harley could hear Garrett’s voice on the phone. He had learnt three things about Garret North. First, he was Dan’s best friend, despite the constant insults and rude, sometimes even cruel, comments they exchanged. Second, he speaks so much about nothing at all; he had listened to North talk about some animal he found out in his backyard for 40 minutes. Three, even if they were best friends, they never stayed in their houses when traveling, unlike his other friends. There was something about Garrett’s wife getting angry at him if he didn’t sleep in a hotel, or something like that.

“I just feel bad he had to pay for everyone. He didn’t even blink; he just booked everything, and it’s so expensive. I know you are a disaster, but I can manage.” Dan snorted at the commentary. “I don’t like it when there is money involved. I wish he had just told me beforehand. What if I had booked something myself?”

“Don’t be a little bitch and stop complaining. I can feel your stress through the phone. I need to go, Harley is making faces.” 

“Ok, I’ll call you tomorrow, go and be a slut. I hate you, idiot.”

“Love you too!”

Harley looked at Dan; It was so weird for him how he behaved sometimes, but he also had a difficult life. What Dad said was that you have to be extra nice to people who have less than you. Maybe he was too conservative, or old? He was younger than Dan, but somehow it feels like Dan is the youngest. He was very approachable but firm when he was working, then he relaxed and became a brat. He thought he was a flirty guy, but he is very childish.

“Hotel?”

“Yes, the play-offs hotel. Pierre doesn’t trust us with the booking, so he is paying for all of us. Are we done with the film?”

“Yes, it’s late, let’s go to sleep.” 

Thousands of fans packed the Arena, clapping at the sound of the music and getting hyped by the host. Las Vegas went crazy with these All-Stars, and even if the restrictions were somehow lifted, the arena was sold out completely. Pierre was managing the games, while Dan and Garret helped him with the skill competition. The two youngest were rambling on the sidelines, waiting for the games to start.

“I cannot believe you have another tattoo, you slut.”

“What, you thought I was over with them?”

“What does mister republican think about it?

“Shut up, he is not a republican… he doesn’t like it.”

“Isn’t his third uncle or something a republican senator? You should have tattooed an elephant, that probably would have convinced his family.”

“I thought you liked him, you bitch.”

“Well, you have been together for months, and we are in Las Vegas, so I expect you to elope, so until he marries you, he is on thin ice. You get it?”

“That was the worst pun I have ever heard from you. Why the obsession with me getting married? Holy shit.” Dan skated to the players, and they all lined up. “Ok, guys, get up, time to shine! Come on. Smith first, O’Connell, Marshall, Tremblay. Are we ready? Ok, let’s have fun, boys!”

“Yes, sir!” Someone shouted, thumbs up, and someone patted his back. Dan skated to the side, to the other one there. 

“Do you want me to handle the pucks? Just in case?” Garret went to his side. 

“What’s the problem?”

“So you don’t kiss it good luck?” 

“Fuck you.” Dan laughed. “Sure, you do them.” 

Garret took a puck and left it 35 feet from the goalpost. Dan called the first one, and the players kept going. They weren't doing great; it was a slow time, with the current fastest speed at 99 mph.

“Marshal, come to the line!” Dan called, and they met in the middle. “Easy, you got this.” He whispered. 

Dan skated to Garrett’s side and waited there. Harley looked to the line, twirled the stick a couple of times, and ran. His first shot was 98 mph. Dan swore under his breath, and Garret bumped his shoulder and went to leave the second puck. Harley went back to the line, twirled the stick, and looked at Dan for a second. Dan nodded, and Harley ran and shot. Air cannons shouted, and people cheered. The host screamed.

“New record of the night! 102.2 mph Harley Marshal!”  

Dan smiled. He was so proud that Harley had been practicing almost every day, and they had been going through all the movements. He needed a win, not only because Harley thought he wasn’t performing as well as planned for his team, but also because his brother had broken the team’s record for wins. However, he also felt a bit jealous. Harley was there celebrating, some of Pike’s kids were in the ice, and he high-fived them and laughed with them. He also wanted to hug him, jump over him, and tell him how well he had done. If he weren’t a ref, maybe he could come out… No, even if he stopped being a ref, people would still make the math, and that would put Harley’s career in danger. If he wants a future, he has to stop being on the ice and wait until Harley retires. Probably even after all that, people would try to dirty Harley’s name; his legacy is in danger anyway. That counted on him stopping working on the ice, and that made Dan’s stomach turn. He loved this job. Well, he loved hockey, and this job was so much fun. It would be a pain to leave it. 

“Your face is all dumb,” Garret said, stopping at his side. Dan didn’t have a comeback, no witty answer, and Garret got closer. “Hey, everything ok?” 

Dan looked at Garret, and the latter recognized that look. No, he is not okay; he is so sad that he can no longer put on his stupid laugh mask. 

“Come on, it’s time for Pierre to take over. Let’s go.” He said, grabbing him from the shoulders. 

As people left the arena, the staff decided it was time to clean up after them, preparing for the matches they would have tomorrow. Pierre was skating around, picking up cones and some random gloves he found. Garret grabbed one of the sticks and went around picking pucks, while Dan was in the line for the hardest shot. The machine was still there. Garret whistled at him and threw a puck to him. Dan picked it up and shot: “85 mph.” Dan raised his stick, looking at Pierre. Garret went behind him and tried to trip him, and Dan laughed so hard his voice reached Harley walking through the halls. 

He was out of the dresser, already dressed in civilian, and looked at them from the hall, smiling. He sat on one of the benches and began recording the referees messing around. Pierre left another puck in the line for Garret and Dan to play with the velocimeter, when Harley felt another person sitting at his side. 

“This is fun! What are we doing?” Ilya said. Harley sat straight, stopping recording. 

“I’m just looking at what they are doing. I’ve never seen a referee playing.” 

“They play like shit. Well, except the hot one.” Harley looked questioning. “Red-haired one, he is cute.”

Dan went back to the line, twirled the stick a couple of times, ran, and shot. Pierre screamed, and Garret applauded, defeated. “96 mph”.  

“Damn, he is better than Pike. You also danced the sick before winning, curious.” Dan went to sit on the border of the barrier, smiling and watching Garret pick up all the material left. “Cute and good at hockey, his boyfriend must be lucky.” Harley froze. Ilya looked at him side-eyed, with a crooked smile. Garret left all the pucks and cones inside a box by Dan and pushed him enough to make him wobble against the barrier and almost fall. However, Garret grabbed him from the shirt, and Dan hugged him, scared, spilling a barrage of insults towards him. “Oh! If North weren’t married, they would look cute together.” 

“What?” Harley looked at Ilya, forgetting for a second.

“Any problem, Marshall?” Ilya scrunched his nose in his smile. Pierre opened the door to their side of the stadium and began taking things inside the hall. 

“Hello, Gentleman. If you have nothing else to do, you can take this to the material room.” 

“Busy!” Ilya screamed and ran away. “I need to go back to my sweet, sweet man husband!” He said, and winked to Harley. Pierre shook his head and kept dragging things, while Dan and Garret came by. 

“Maybe I can help you?” Harley said. 

“Shit, yes, please. I need a shower. Pierre, come with me. Dan can take care of that,” Garret winked an eye at Harley, too, and left through the corridor to the showers. Harley acknowledged with a little nod and a smile. “See you later! Asshole!”

“À plus tard, bg! I love you, Garret!” 

“I don’t!” Garret said, flipping him off. 

Dan and Harley took everything to the material room. It was a dark, dusty, and musty room filled with old crushed pucks, cones, and some nasty mats in a corner. The second Harley went in, closed the door, dragged a wooden bench, and blocked the door. Harley looked back and had just enough time to react to Dan jumping into his hands, legs around his waist. Harley went to speak, looking nervously towards the door, but Dan kept kissing him.

“Shut up, Marshall. We are the last ones; no one is coming, and if anything, it would be Garret. We are good.”

“He knows we are here?”

“Oh, this is kind of a normal place for this type of thing. Oh, don’t tell me you actually wanted to help with the material.”

“What?! Yes!”

Dan laughed, jumping to the ground, pushing Harley towards the gym mats. Dan kissed his ears, his neck just below the clean cut of his beard, and bit him. Harley’s hands went straight under his shirt. There was nothing he liked more than making men lose it, making them grab him like he was the only thing in this world. His own hands went to the belt of Harley’s jeans and unbuttoned them. Dan went to his knees, looking upwards to the gorgeous man he had in front of him. Harley was panting, and his eyes kept moving between him and the door. Dan spent kisses on the maroon underwear, and then he took his dick out and wasted no time getting it in his mouth. Harley grunted while Dan kept going, taking all of him, hands in his ass. Harley crashed his back into a group of metallic shelves, and Dan screamed, shaking a hand that got crushed too, but he didn’t stop sucking him. Actually, Harley felt Dan scream with his dick in Dan’s mouth, and it did something to him because now he was about to combust. “What the hell,” he thought, “what was this man doing to me?”. Dan went to lick his balls and looked upwards at him for a second. He had such beautiful eyes in such a lustful gaze. Dan went back to his dick, bobbing his head faster, Harley grabbed the shelves and grunted while exploding. Dan didn’t stop there; he continued for a few seconds until someone knocked Shave and a Haircut on the door. Dan jumped to his feet, and Harley tried to put his jeans back on. They grabbed some of the pucks and other material, as if they were looking at the shelves. The Zamboni operator got in, but the door crushed the wooden bench.

“What the hell?”

“Sorry! Sorry, we were trying to make sense of the storage room.” Dan said, moving the bench away. “We are leaving.”

They left, embarrassed, and turned a corner in the corridor. Garret was scrolling on his phone, resting against the wall. Dan went to him and looked back at Harley, who was still kind of in shock after being almost caught.

“Text you later,” Dan whispered, and Harley left.

“I thought he had won the fastest shot? I was bored.”

“Oh, you fucker…” He said, looking at his hand, he had a cut on a finger.

“What is that? Does he have a dick made of steel?”

Harley left the building, still hearing Dan's laugh through the echo of the corridor.

Chapter Text

The loud music coming from the TV made it so Dan couldn’t listen to the ringing alarm, so when he finally figured it out, a big cloud of smoke came out of the oven. Dan cursed, but when he looked, it was not that bad. Some potatoes were looking rough, but they were still edible. Dan breathed, left the salmon and potatoes, a very nice salad. Everything had to be perfect… because his Valentine’s present was shit, so at least he had to do the rest of it as perfectly as possible. He was also wearing a nice new shirt, the kind of shirt he never wears, and lovely dark brown trousers. He was very sorry, but he had no shoes; he couldn’t wear shoes at home. So just black socks would have to do the set. He also took his contacts and got his glasses. The door rang, and he ran there, looking in the mirror before opening it. He looked like his brother, damn, that was not a good start, though. Harley went in, helmet on, and when the door closed, he finally took it off. His light brown hair was getting long, but Dan couldn’t stop a chuckle. 

“Oh, come on. I’m not even a second here, and you are already being mean.” 

“No, no, I just… I just wasn’t aware you were twelve.” Dan said, caressing the beard-less face of Harley. 

“If I don’t shave now, I would look like a monster during the playoffs.” Harley rolled his eyes. “And I don’t like when you are mean.” 

“Sorry,” Dan said, biting his tongue and giving him a soft kiss. “Dinner?”  

Dinner was interesting. They discussed the next playoffs, how the Voyageurs really wanted to prove to themselves that they could win without Hollander. 

“So, let’s make plans! What about summer?” 

“It’s kind of crazy to think about summer when it’s still snowing.”

“I know, but if we want to go somewhere, we should think about it.” Harley ate complacently and looked at him. Dan waited… “Are you thinking about what to do in the summer?”

“I normally go back home and spend time with the family.” 

“Do you think I could go? Maybe meet some of them?” Harley thought about it. 

“I think I could bring my brother and sister in law here. Meet the kids.” 

Kenneth. He had met Harley’s big brother a couple of times, and every time it had been very uncomfortable. He would look at him weirdly whenever he would grab Harley’s hand or point out where the cutlery or cups were in Harley’s house. Then there were times when Harley’s family would attend a match, but Dan would always be traveling, which was at least 3 days per week. Valentine’s Day! He forced the thought back, so he pushed the feelings inside, because it’s time for presents. 

Dan went to his guest room. It was the most similar to an IKEA showroom, with plain furniture, and the only memorable thing was the couple of medals and t-shirts displayed on the walls. His junior team t-shirt, his Ottawa AHL shirt named “Renard” over a 77, some medals, and camp diplomas. He had a full vertical shelf lined with diplomas featuring Olympic symbols. First Korea participation diploma with a picture of a group of referees; he recognized a few referees from the picture, but he knew Pierre was a close friend. Just below the diploma for Sochi and another picture, he also recognized them, but Harley smiled. Dan looked so young in there. Pierre was also there, as was Garret, and other referees. Under the two diplomas, a bunch of little trinkets, pins from countries like Ireland, a Russian ruble, the Olympics staff t-shirt folded, and such goodies. 

“It’s not like winning the Stanley Cup, but I promise you this is very nice for a referee,” Dan said, opening a drawer and picking a little package. 

“I’m sure. It’s cool you went to two Olympics, do you want to go to Beijing?”

“Of course, the Olympics are like being in a different world.” He said, looking at the pictures. “Here you have, your present,” he shook his head and looked back at Harley. “It’s very silly, I have no idea what to buy for a rich dude.”

Harley opened the small packet, and inside were two red wrist sweatbands, each with a golden shooting star embroidered on it. Harley giggled and put them on. 

“I still cannot believe you actually listened to me. I was joking.”

“I take my tattoos very seriously.” 

Harley rolled his eyes and changed the topic. “I also have something for you.” Harley went back to the living room, grabbed a big bag, and gave it to Dan. A brown leather motorbike jacket. 

“Harley, this must have cost a fortune.” Harley giggled when Dan put it on. On the breast pockets, it had an “H D” engraved. “Harley Davidson?” 

“Harley and Dan.” There have been so many years since someone had made Dan blush. Harley laughed and hugged him. 

“I was always worried about you not wearing proper gear, so now I can feel a bit better. There is something in the pockets.”  

Dan looked in the pockets and found keys, an actual Harley-Davidson key. 

“No…” 

“I love you as a backpack, but I was thinking you could drive me too.”

“This is too much. I got you fucking wristbands…” Dan said, leaving the present bag on his sofa and sitting in the armrest.

“I have the money, why not? If it makes you feel better, I was not thinking of paying for driving classes. That you can do yourself.” 

Dan looked incredulously at his new bike’s keys. One of those bikes could cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was so uncomfortable, and a voice in his head repeated a past conversation, ‘I know you want to be nice, and you don’t care, but I do care, and if we are not doing this from the same level, you are only making me uncomfortable, thinking on all the ways I cannot reciprocate.’ Dan understood now, wow, this was uncomfortable… but Harley was looking at him so happily. 

“Let’s do this. Take care of the bike, you teach me to drive this summer. If you make it happen, I will think about taking the bike.”  

“Deal!” Harley hugged him, picked him up, and walked to the bedroom. At least Dan got something to do with him during the summer; that was a good Valentine’s present.

Harley finished training that afternoon, and the curling team was jumping into the ice; Dan was among them. The hockey players were picking up their gear from all over the arena when someone pointed to Harley’s wristbands.

“What’s that about, Marshal?? A Star? Who are you dating? Someone famous?”

“I’m not telling you. It’s private.” Harley said, winking an eye at him.

“Oh! You are not saying no!”

“Guys, it’s none of your business; let him be. We haven’t learnt anything, have we?” Pike pointed out, forcibly putting himself between his teammate and Harley.

“It’s not like Marshall is dating a dude, anyway.”

“He can date Beyonce and wouldn’t be your business, anyway,” J.J. answered. 

The vibes in the changing room had been improving for a second, because Harley was always trying to be the motivational coach of the room. Still, the locker room conversation had degraded since Hollander left. Now J.J. and Pike would answer to any homophobic or sexist comment without faking or putting on a front. The coach was not happy with them, but it wasn’t easy to call out people for being actually nice. They met the curling team in the entrance to the ice, when Harley stopped blocking the door to the outside. 

“Wait a second, sir? Mister Cameron?” Dan looked at him with wide eyes; they never interchanged more than a polite nod of the head. Few Voyageurs waited in the ice behind him. “I was thinking. I have no idea what curling is, and I think part of a referee’s job is to improve our knowledge of norms. Can you teach us curling?”

Some of the Voyageurs laughed, as if someone was going to say something offensive; however, the curling players looked at them with rage in their eyes. Dan didn’t know what to say, too shocked. Pike took over, leaning on Harley. 

“It actually looks like ice bowling. I think it would be cool.” 

Some other voices joined, and Dan looked at the curling team. Someone said something in the style of ‘Can we get tickets for the match?’ and when the captains of the teams talked for one minute, both teams started playing. They spent the afternoon throwing stones, falling on the ice because they didn’t have enough shoes, and drinking whatever the Zamboni guy had in the storage. Harley was stealing glances at this version of Dan, a fun but firm teacher of the rules, making it seem easy when it actually wasn’t. This version of Dan was his favourite. The one who thrived from being around people, the one who was passionate about his job. He decided that they should practice more curling, and the other players continued to approach him with questions and jokes. Harley wished he could go there and hug him, but he didn’t.

Seven curling players, plus Dan, sit in the seats that the Vanguards had managed to fix, between a couple of family tickets that were not used across the team. Curling was not the most strict sport, unlike Hockey, so he had no problem going with them with beers and fun. ‘If I just got a nice curling player,’ he thought for a second, and then felt guilty about that, though. My actual boyfriend was that gorgeous Voyageurs center who spoiled me to hell and gave the biggest hugs. He couldn’t complain.

The match was against Boston, and it was a difficult one; they were hand-to-hand. During the intermission, the TV showed a fantastic win for Ottawa, with pictures of Barrett jumping and hugging Rozanov. The sixth win in a row. They were so ready for the playoffs. Boston, not that much. They needed this win, or they would be virtually out of the league, and they were in a tie. The match was about to end, so Boston took the last risk to win. They pulled their goalie, and the commentator went crazy. 

“They are pulling the goalie! Incredible, they are going all in. Let’s see how this works for Boston. And there they go! 

Boston is winning the terrain, with all six attackers over the Vanguards; everyone is in the Vanguards’ house, and the Vanguards’ goalie is on the floor! This is going to be a bloodbath; three Vanguards just hit the Boston players. 

Lindholm still has the puck; Pike stole it! And there it goes, a long throw from Pike, probably to waste the time and kick Boston out of the league. 

It’s a slow throw; the puck is not traveling super fast, but it’s moving across the arena far away from Boston. J.J. and Marshal are flying to the puck, maybe trying to make the last kill; wait a second. 

What is this… Are they? 

Oh my God, is that curling brushing? 

Well, we are all seeing it; 

J.J. and Marshall are brushing the ice with their sticks in front of the slow puck, as if it were a curling stone. 

And there it goes… slowly… and… finally into the Boston net. I dare to say this is the most embarrassing goal I have ever presenciated.”

The second commentator was laughing and trying to speak.

“This is such a ridiculous goal that all the Vanguards stopped fighting and are now congratulating J.J. and Marshall. They are pointing to someone. Do we have more information about what is going on in the field, Marisha?”

“From what I can hear from the Vanguards’ Staff, the players invited the curling team to the match.” 

“There you have it. Who would think the Montreal curling team and Montreal Vanguards were so close! But if nothing, it had made this play the best play of the season.” 

“I don’t know if the best, but indeed this is going to be one of the most memorable plays of the season.”

“Let’s remember that Marshall just won the fastest shot during the All-Stars, and now as… helped? To the slowest one.” The woman interjected.

“Who wants impossible shots, when you can have a very, very slow curling goal in the NHL?”

Dan was embarrassed as hell, but his heart moved as if it were a train engine when Marshal celebrated the goal by going in front of him and pointing. He wanted to jump onto the ice and kiss him; he wanted to scream that he loved him. Oh. 

Oh.

Dan grabbed his beanie close to his head, the jacket closing around him due to the sudden cold shiver from his spine, and the dumbest smile spread across his face.

The sound of orchestral music was coming from Dan’s phone, sitting on the side table of Harley’s bed. Dan grunted. They stayed awake way too late last night. Dan slowly took the phone and saw Garret’s name. He didn’t hesitate and hang. It’s too early; he can talk about the last episode of ‘Sexy Island’ later. He went back to bed, hugging a sleepy Harley that was by his side. A few minutes later, Harley’s phone rang. Dan grunted again and tried to wake Harley, who looked confused for a second. 

“Oh, it’s my brother. Hello?” 

“I’m at the airport, I will be in your place in 10 minutes, and I hope you have an explanation for this shitshow,” Kenneth said and hung up the phone. Harley was confused. He looked at the phone, then at Dan. 

“He is coming. Let’s get dressed. He said I have explanations to give?”

A light in Dan’s brain, he grabbed his phone. Garret had called him twice before, when the phone was on ‘do not disturb’. They went down to the kitchen, and Harley started making coffee while Dan sat at the counter. He had messages from Garret. It was a picture of himself with the helmet on and Harley on his bike. He took his helmet off because he got something in his face; it was just for a second. He showed them to Harley, and he almost dropped his cup just when Kenneth opened the door with his own keys.

“Oh.” 

“Yes, Oh! What the hell, Harley!” Kenned threw the keys on the island and took his jacket, then threw it into a chair.

“I didn’t see anyone.”

“They are paps! That’s what they get paid for!”

Harley couldn’t say anything more, and Dan was looking through the internet. There were several photos of both of them in the Starbucks parking lot. Dan’s face was never shown, but they captured every second of Harley’s brief moment. Otherwise, it didn’t look that bad, at least for Dan. Just two dudes on a bike. 

“To be honest, it doesn’t look that bad.” Dan dared to say. It was just two men on a bike, really. He was not grabbing anything. He was reading the text, which stated that the new star of Montreal, Harley Marshall, was ready to finish the funniest match in the NHL at Starbucks with another player, whose t-shirt was visible under the jacket and their physiques. He had to stop himself from smiling at that last part; he still got it.

“Not that bad.”

“Maybe you don’t understand if you live in a gated community, but people go to Starbucks with friends, and the text said that I could be one of his teammates.”

“And now his teammates are going to ask questions! Because it’s not one of them. I told you this was not okay, I told you this would explode in your face, and look at it now.” 

Kenneth started pointing fingers at Harley, who was looking at the pictures on his phone, his face red with pure embarrassment. That made Dan’s blood boil; the way his brother treated his man was unacceptable. He hopped from the countertop and tried to step between both of the Marshalls, like he does when two players look like they are going to fight, with the difference that Harley was just there, ready to take the blow.

“Okay, now you are being a bit overboard. There is nothing yet, his teammates could think I’m one of the staff members or other friends Harley may have! Because that’s a thing people have. Just because two men are together, it doesn’t mean anything!”

“Your jacket… I personalized it. Now you cannot wear it.” 

Oh. He looked at it, and it was his new brown jacket, the one from Valentine’s that Harley got him to be more protected when riding. He cannot use it anymore? How is that fair? Harley was going to teach him to ride bikes during the summer, and… that idea felt like slipping from his fingers.

“I really don’t see the point in talking to you right now. This is a family problem.” 

Kenneth tried to move him away, but Dan stood in front of him. Kenneth may be 250 pounds of muscle, but he is not small. His dear brother-in-law would have had to push him. 

“Well, I’m the one in that picture and the one in your brother’s bed, so I think this conversation is also my business.” 

Kenneth’s jaw tightened. Dan was so tired; all the dragging that Harley was doing with his family was the cause of it. Lack of acceptance. They have not accepted that their little boy may love dick. Dan’s phone rang again; it was Garret. Again, he hung up. Harley used that moment to grab Dan’s shoulders and move him away softly.

“Dan… Please” 

“Don’t you dare to do it, Harley.”

“Let me fix this with my bro…” 

Harley’s phone rang this time. Dan was about to throw all the phones into the trash can, but Harley was looking pale, as if the dead were calling. He looked at the name on the screen, which displayed the name of the NHL offices.

“Fuck.” Kenneth threw his hands in the air. Harley’s hands trembled when he picked up the phone. 

“Marshall.

Yes, sir. 

Yes, sir.

I understand, I will be there.” Kenneth looked at him, inquiring. 

“They want to talk to me this afternoon.” 

He hadn’t finished the sentence when Dan’s phone rang again. Dan swore at Garret’s name, but when he looked at his phone, the name on the screen was the NHL office in Montreal.

“Oh, Fuck!” Harley sat on the floor, hands on his head. Cold sweat and shivers ran down Dan’s spine. 

“Hello, Cameron here.”

“Hello, I’m Smith from the NHL office. This is Daniel Cameron, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m calling because we have a few concerns about a possible breach of conduct. You are called to be in the office today at 4 pm.”

“May I ask what the concern is?”

“We  will inform you in the meeting.”

“No, sorry, sir. I need to know at least something about the meeting in case of the need for legal advice.” Harley’s eyes went wide. How can that man behave like a teenager and a rude brat regularly, but the second he is on the ice or at work, he becomes the man with the most confidence and professionalism he has ever seen? Like that day in the corridor when they met, that look of confidence. Where is that Dan usually?

“It’s about the behaviour with players that worries us. I don’t think we should escalate before having a conversation.” 

“Ok. I hope that’s correct. I will see you at 4 pm, but I hope the meeting will be brief, so if further actions are to be taken, then I can make the correct choice.” 

“Of course, Mr. Cameron. See you later.” Dan left his phone in his pocket. Looked at Harley and nodded.

“I think we are fucked.”

“I’m calling our PR and legal teams. You.” Kenneth said, pocking a finger in Dan’s chest. “Get away from my brother from the time being.” 

“That’s not a decision I will take from you.” He said, pushing Kenneth’s finger away. “Harley. Do you really want me out? This is about you and me. I don’t want to leave you alone.” Harley was still on the floor, a leg shaking in anxiety, not looking at him.

“He is not alone.” 

“Could you just shut the f..”

“I think you should leave,” Harley said. “This situation is a mess, but our family has… resources. It wouldn’t be good if someone saw us together or if paparazzi took a photo from the river or something similar. Just go home. I will call you later.” 

Dan walked back to his apartment. It was around thirty minutes on a good walk, but his feet were dragging. The phone rang again, Garret. He was the latest person he wanted to talk to, and part of him blamed Garret, because he kept pushing him to make stupid mistakes. Dan knew that it was a lie; he didn’t need help making mistakes. He can make them all alone.

Chapter Text

Dan walked through the corridor in the NHL offices at the Arena at 4:03, greeting the procurement team and the legal team… Unbothered. He knocked on Smith’s, the NHL delegation manager’s, door and opened it. The first thing he saw was Harley, sitting on a couch with a puzzled face. At his right, J.J. was also there. His eyebrows were so close together that he was extremely confused, his gaze moving towards Harley and J.J., who had a face that could only be described as one that would constantly roll its eyes. The manager was sitting behind his dark brown desk, the windows behind showing the sun setting on Montreal.  

“Oh, Cameron, you are finally here. We can start, please, Cameron, sit.” 

“I’m ok. I was informed this would be short.”

Dan stood on his feet, arms crossed on his chest. The manager shook his head and continued as if nothing had happened.

“I wanted to talk with you about something that has been worrying me. We had received feedback from people in the arena about inappropriate conduct between players and referees. For instance, the Vanguards have been seen playing curling with you, Cameron. Having ‘cans’ and befriending the players. Then there was the goal…”

“Wait. Is this because of the curling goal?” Dan interjected.

“Well, I wanted to talk also with Harley and J.J. about what you think was a correct play to make.”

“I, I thought it was funny?” Harley pleaded.

“Sir, it was just an internal joke,” J.J. stated.

“Was it an internal joke to celebrate the goal with an NHL referee? That should be impartial?” Dan’s blood pressure skyrocketed. He had spent the last hours in total panic, thinking about what would happen to Harley, what kind of resources he could have to help him, and what they should do. But after all, it was because of a stupid goal, and he was being called unprofessional… He could be many things, but nothing if not professional. He took two steps in front of the manager.

“Sir, with all due respect. There are several ways in which nothing was wrong. I’m not allowed to be a referee for the Vanguards, so there is no impartiality to break, because I don’t judge them. Secondly, I was working with the curling team, and I would dare say that collaboration between different Montreal ice teams is not only not a problem, but it should be encouraged. The fact that they may have been one or two cans in the ice shouldn’t be addressed in this meeting; that’s the least of the problems. We all know what’s inside that earth globe over there.” Dan pointed to the globe sitting in the corner that was clearly a minibar. “There is no regulation in curling about befriending players, anyway. I can be a referee and player of curling at the same time, so I’m not breaking any guidelines of the role I was playing at that moment. The funny play those two made was a blast, seriously, guys, it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” He said, looking to the players. J.J. smiled and sat straighter, while Harley was still looking down, but blushing, “and everyone was laughing in the arena. I can bet that they are making headlines on social media, not to mention that it was a crucial point they got, and they knocked Boston out of the playoffs. So, unless you have anything actually important to say, I’m out of here. If you need me or you find a need to escalate, please send an email that I can forward to my legal representatives.” 

Dan was tired as fuck, angry as fuck, and about to throw a punch at someone. His face must have been a poem, because the manager didn’t complain when he turned around and left the room with a heavy door slam. He was supposed to work that day in the building, go through some paperwork, and probably hit the gym, but he felt his muscles tense and tremble, so he decided that if people were pissed with him already, missing one afternoon was not going to make it worse. He got on the bus to his neighborhood, but it was filled with people going to the airport, so by the time he walked to his building, he was overstimulated and overwhelmed. He changed his clothes and headed to the little gym in the cellar to burn off some energy, the music blasting, “do not disturb” on.  It was already eight at night when he went back up to his apartment. He opened the door, and Harley was there. Dan was ready to scream at him, to kick him out, but Harley opened his arms and Dan ran to him.  Harley hid his face on Dan’s neck, and Dan patted his back.

Sounds of bodies colliding faster and faster, Harley sighed, grabbing Dan’s hips while the former swore into the pillow. Harley’s fingers digging in his hips was the signal, Dan rocked with him and smiled on the few occasions he could hear Harley swear. “Shit! Dan!” He screamed as his orgasm ran through his body. Harley moved away and fell into Dan’s arms, trying to get their breathing back. They had barely talked to each other beyond hot words and gasps, and Harley made lazy circles in his chest. Dan looked through the window. His mind won’t put words in it, but his hands were already moving through Harley’s body, writing him in his memory.  

“My brother has an idea.” There we go. Dan thought. “He thinks I should get a PR girlfriend.” 

“What the hell is a PR girlfriend?” Harley tensed at the tone of voice. 

“Well, someone who would be my girlfriend on the outside. Someone who is probably in a similar situation to me… us.” Dan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“You want a beard.”  

“Well, yes. A lavender partner will provide shade and distract the news. Situations like the other day would have less weight and are not like we have a better solution.” 

Dan’s eyes went back to the sky of Montreal, clouds covering the sky, and drops of water on the window. That was going to melt the snow if it didn’t stop soon.  

“Dan, I know it’s not ideal, but I really don’t see any other option that would give us more protection.”

“I know.” 

It was a whisper of an answer, but that was enough for Harley, who kissed his chest and went to sleep, letting go of all the anxiety and exhaustion of the day. Dan felt the itch, the slight prickling that he gets when he wants another tattoo. He has no idea what kind of tattoo he could get to fix this, something big, something in his arms, maybe. He was getting warm and went to open the window for a second, then returned to his bed, naked, with no comforter, just the cold February night and him. He looked at his tattoos on his thighs. The sound of horseshoes hitting a stake, girls’ laughter in French, and a coin that is constantly flipped. Was everything a hallucination? It probably was… this is the real world, and he has to accept what he has. Damn, he will fight for it. 

He fell asleep. 

The splash of wine on his shirt was not going to be removed, but Hannah was applying some product to it, while Dan just let her do so. Garret was resting on a sofa beside Pierre, both of them wearing shorts and t-shirts. Garret had his black hair longer than usual, almost falling on his eyes, while Pierre was making points on Wes’s decisions. Emilie was preparing something special for dessert while Eloise was crammed between the two men on her phone.

“Go up and grab one of Pierre’s t-shirts. I cannot do anything if you are wearing it.” Hannah said in French, she kept trying to fix it, and Dan just looked at her, gaze unfocused. “Earth calling Renard.” 

“Sorry. I don’t really care.”

“What is going on?” She said, her sky blue eyes looking inquisitive at him. They had been friends for almost twenty years, and they had shared more than normal people would consider comfortable; she knew something was wrong.

“Actually, I could talk to you all.” He said, and then went back to the living room. “I have a weird announcement to make.”

“Eloise, go with your sister and prepare the dessert.”

 Hannah commanded, and the little girl rolled her eyes and left with complaints. Pierre and Garret looked at him; by the expressions on his face, both were worried.

 “You are one of the few who know about Harley and me. Something may show up in the news soon.”

Garret began breathing harder, while Pierre got his hands on his legs, moving closer to him and trying to calm him down. 

“Did you two get caught?” Hannah said, grabbing his shoulder, saying what everybody was thinking. 

“No… no, not now at least. So, we got scared the other day, with the dumb Starbucks photo. We decided to hire professional help.” The three looked confused. “Harley is going to get a PR girlfriend. It’s going to get in the news, I don’t know, maybe tomorrow? Very soon.”

Three reactions happened simultaneously. Garret got his back on the couch, arms crossed on his chest with a look that would scare the mafia, Pierre got his hands on his eyes, and Hannah’s jaw was on the floor. And then, all of them talked.

“You agreed to that?” Pierre questioned.

“It’s fucking stupid; I believe he did.” Garret spitted. 

“I love you, Garret, but you are on thin ice,” Hannah said, but she pointed to Dan quickly enough. “I think this is the most stupid thing you have done yet.” Garret moved his hands as if ‘I just said the same thing.’

“I don’t think so. Anyway, what other thing can we do? What other solution? I don’t want to leave the ice; he either. We shouldn’t be doing this. A PR relationship gets us away from rumours and even possible mistakes in the future.”  

“Does he make you happier?” 

Garret said his black eyes were so deep and big; he was furious. The three of them fell into a tense silence. Dan felt torn apart. That was a cruel question, especially coming from ‘married’ Garret, as if he wasn’t doing the same. That was a question that the three of them wanted to know the answer to, so they waited for the social pressure to break him. Dan didn’t know what to say. He honestly couldn’t answer. After another second left without an explanation, Garret got up and stomped away towards the guest house Pierre had, slamming the door behind him. Dan flinched and swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“Renard…” Pierre shook his head, but got up and hugged Dan. “We will be with you no matter what decision you take. We are just worried about you, Garret, too. You know how he is; he left because he is probably having a panic attack or something. Actually, I probably should call Herbert.”

“We have your back, forever, mon Renard ,” Hannah said in French, adding herself to the hug. 

The next morning, Dan woke up in Montreal, exhausted as if he hadn’t been punched by his bed instead of resting, and an alert on his phone that he had set up after their first scare. It shows him any news with the name ‘Harley Marshall’ on it. The news and gossip pages were crazy because last night, Harley Marshall was spotted with Harper Reed, a famous singer, having dinner at a chic restaurant with a couple of friends. Some people were calling it a soft launch; the rumours said they were already dating. Harley was smiling and handsome, wearing that blue and white shirt that complemented his eyes perfectly, paired with white chinos that he had unbuttoned many times. She had perfect blonde hair and blue eyes, as any other man’s American dream. He was taking her hand to the car, and the photographers shouted their names. The itch was the worst he had ever had. Dan didn’t want another tattoo; he wanted to remove his skin from his body. 

“Come on, Renard. You have been worse, you have felt worse.”

He said to himself, while he threw an arm across his eyes, and tears started to show. He forced himself to recall images that he had hidden many years ago, to convince himself that this was better, that this was a good idea. He brought back other hands, other smiles, other tears, and other heartbreak. ‘That was pain, this is ok. I can do this.’ It didn’t really work out. He just cried twice as hard. 

Since watching a match with the curling guys was somehow dangerous for the NHL, Dan decided to go to the boxes. Angela’s wife was there; he didn’t know her that much, but he hung around. He felt like he had a hangover after dragging himself from bed this morning, and it got worse when Harley jumped into the warmups and a group of Harper Reed fans started screaming and waving cardboard signs with messages about them. Everybody was on the last gossip about Harley and Harper, even Wes said something in the chat, and Pierre quickly changed the topic. Tonight, they have California playing in Montreal; it should be a very tight match, but the Vanguards would jump into playoff season if they win. Garret was in the ice, checking the arena for any issues and talking with the other line and referees. He still looked pissed, and his fists were clenched, barking orders around. He hadn’t called him or said anything in the chat, so Dan was not sure if he should reach out to him after the match or just let it go and wait for him to cool off. Dan looked around and saw people giggling and almost threw up a bit. He had to remind himself that whatever happens, that night Harley will sleep with him. ‘Harper is a cover, she is not real.’ a plegary, a mantra in his head.   

The match started, and he saw how the Vanguards were very fired up tonight; they could feel the Stanley Cup so close. However, something was off. He saw Garret; he was focused… but on Harley. Following the puck, nevertheless, but Dan knew he was circling Harley, and if something were slightly wrong, Garret would stop him. It was kind of ridiculous, to be honest. People were talking about how ‘Ref North must be jealous of Marshall!! He must be a fan!!’ but Dan murmured, “What is wrong with you, stray…”

In the ice, it didn’t look better. The players were getting more and more pissed at Garret, and the second time he sent Harley to sit down, Harley couldn’t stop himself. 

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you were a friend.”

“I am. Now go and sit, fuck boy.” 

The fifth time, Harley got extremely pissed. This is the highest number of times he has had to sit in the bank for virtually nothing. The coach was about to call the referees to complain about North or replace Marshall with the next center, because it was ridiculous. By the time Harley softly pushed a Cali player, Garret was behind him. Harley was losing his patience, and he threw the stick in the ice and said to Garret’s face.

“It doesn’t matter, North! You can sit me all the match, I’m not going to stop fucking your friend.”

“You two can fuck all night for what I care, I just hope you clean your mouth after sucking your brother’s dick.”

That was the first time in Harley’s life that he understood what ‘seeing red’ meant. He never thought he would be one of those ‘I lost it’ type of person; all the aggression he had shown on the ice had been planned, expected, this… this was fury. He only became aware when J.J. was pushing him away from Garret, lying in a splash of blood over the ice. Harley looked up to the boxes and backed himself to the Vanguards bench, aware that he was probably out for the rest of the match after that. Pike looked at the referee on the ice, then at the box, where a red-haired man with his hands over his mouth and his eyes wide in dismay was sitting. Pike shook his head and followed J.J. and Harley. 

The referees stopped the game for several minutes and decided to continue with one referee less, sitting Garret on the side, while one of the doctors examined the injury. It was nearing the end, and the other referees were not pleased with him anyway, so he sat there and allowed the doctor to do his job. 

Garret just sat for a second after 15 minutes of the other referees screaming at him for his behaviour. They decided not to call him out to their bosses, but they wanted an explanation, and he said the truth . Harley was the one who made all that curling thing a problem for Cameron, and they knew they were in a “ref gang,” so it seemed reasonable. They then got invested in the gossip about the curling issue, and they forgot about his busted nose. The other referees left the locker room, and then he decided to shower and clean himself of all the blood. Someone knocked on the door and he rushed to put on at least his trousers when the door opened. It was Theriault, dragging Harley behind him, looking like he would rather jump into a frozen lake than be there.

“Hello, North. We wanted to apologize for what happened tonight.” Garret very much doubted that. “I don’t want my boys to behave in that way with our referees, so I’m bringing Marshall here to apologize for his insulting behavior.” Harley hesitated, standing behind the coach as if he were a small child. “Come on, Marshall.”

“It’s ok, coach. I’m not offended.” He considered escalating the situation, but it would only make Dan angrier. “ Sometimes the job gets rough.” 

Garret turned his back and grabbed a white tank, left it resting on his shoulder, just over a tattoo of the Olympic Games from Sochi. Dan had the same; the group got them when they traveled there. The coach pushed Harley towards Garret, who stumbled for a second there, looking at him as if Garret was the devil himself. Harley had no idea why Garret would be so angry. He understands the situation he and Dan are in, and this is the best solution, or a damage control idea they had come up with.

Additionally, Dan pointed out that Garret was also in a similar situation. He didn’t get the details, but Dan always said that Garret was “married” or Garret had to go see his “ wife ”, with his fingers. Theriault’s phone rang, he pointed a finger at Harley and shushed, “Fix it,”   and went to the door, picking up a phone call.

“What is going on with you?” 

“With me? What the fuck is going on with you, Marshall? What is that Harper Reed bullshit?”

“Didn’t you talk with Dan? It’s the best option we have; she provides cover. If something like the Starbucks happens, or god forbid something worse, people have a doubtful reason.”

“And what about Dan?”

“He agreed.”

“Did he? Did you give him any other options, or did you just run with whatever shit your brother said? I thought you would be a better person. I really convinced myself that you would take care of him, but you are making him miserable. He told us about your magnificent plan as if he were sharing the most embarrassing thing ever; he was on the verge of crying. Didn’t you see that?” Harley didn’t, or maybe it didn’t really matter. “I thought you would drag him to your world and give him what he never had. I thought he would have friends, family, a whole world where he would be happy. At the end, you are not better than the last guy that broke his heart.”   

The coach got back to the room, looked at the tense moment those two men were sharing, but Garret talked before he could say anything.

“We are done! Thanks for everything, Theriault. It’s ok, this is part of the job.” 

The coach breathed visibly and grabbed Harley by the hand, just in time for Garret to turn around and put his tank on. Something caught Harley’s eye; His eyes focused only on one part that caught his attention, and he was not going to stop and ask Garret about it, but what he saw was enough: these people and their damn tattoos. Garret had a black cat on his shoulder.

Chapter Text

Dan took the bus to his apartment. Starbucks had been forbidden, and he had not even started looking at driving schools. He looked through the window, absently, lost in his thoughts. That match left him shocked at the core; he had never seen Harley that angry, and the blood in the ice, he wanted to run to the staff locker room, but it felt weird after the other night at Pierre’s. He got off the bus and walked the way to his apartment. His head went over and over on the moment he saw Harley punch Garret, and the former fell into the ice. He couldn’t just not call; he needed both sides of the story. It took a couple of seconds, but he finally answered.

“Hi.”

Not a ‘hello asshole’, not a ‘what’s up, idiot’, he was still angry. Two of the most important people in his life were furious with each other; Hannah and Pierre were worried about him, and he felt frustrated because nothing was right. He could hear the sound of the airport alerts calling passengers.

“Back already?”

“About to board.” No telling which plane, what seat, what he was eating, the weird dude that was in front of him… nothing.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Silence, hesitation.

“I told him to stop sucking his brother’s dick.” Dan closed his eyes in shock, and then the rant began. “Look, he is being a fucking idiot. This Harper thing is idiocy; you cannot tell me you agree with this. What are you going to do, be his best man at his wedding? Did Harper meet his family before you? Come on.”

“It’s not your problem!”

“Well, it is because I care for you! I want you to be happier, and I’m sure you are not. I think you are putting on your stupid front and just being a pushover.”

“I’m happy!” He tried to say, because he is so fucking happy.

“I’m taking that as an insult. I’ve seen you happy, this is not, and I expected Marshall to raise the bar.” Dan felt a vein in his neck pop.

“What fucking bar, Garret? Do you think the bar is somewhere? The bar is in literal hell, the bar is: he is just there. So yes, we don’t want to go public, and he has a fucking girlfriend, and that’s messy, but he is not running away from me. Instead, he is looking for solutions, and that to me is enough to stay.” 

Dan could hear Garret’s rapid breath, but he deserved the anxiety; Everybody else was so worried about him not being anxious. Not Dan, he wants him to break in front of him, if he fucking dares.

“Why are you being such a clingy idiot? You deserve better! You should not be back in the closet! Harley should not hide you!”

“It’s audacious of you to judge me when you are doing the same. Or should I call Miss North and fucking ask her?”

Silence.

Dan physically bit his tongue.

“Fuck you, Cameron,” He hung up.

Surname territory. It doesn’t matter; he will get over it, and he always comes back eventually. With that done, he looked at his phone. It was already 10 pm, and there were no signs of movement from Harley, so he called. He didn’t pick it up. He shot a message.

“Hey, how are you? I was waiting for you. I want to see you.” It took a while for Harley to answer, while Dan paced around the living room.

“Coach is angry, I’m in meetings. I will be home late, and tomorrow I have a plane early with H.”

So both were angry. Dan went to his room and fell onto the mattress, gazing up at the lamp in the ceiling. It was made with wood branches from his uncle’s house, where he learnt to skate, and had a resemblance to a home for a few years. Those were good years. He still owns the house in Ottawa, which he rents out. A part of him thinks that one day he will return to that place; maybe that’s why the apartment sits with almost no decoration. He had barely expended any money on it. That place was home, and this is work.

The next day, his phone pinged. The news was gossiping about the last view of Harley and Harper having brunch in some fancy place in New York, probably because he was so sad after such a difficult match he had. Dan rolled his eyes. Harley should be there with him. Beautiful Harper was grabbing his arm, and he kissed the top of her head. They looked adorable. If Dan weren’t sure Harley was gay, he would be worried. Wait. Have they ever talked about that? It’s not something he cares about, whatever rocks your boat, but he had never had to share before. This was purely PR, wasn’t it? He had to get moving either way; he also had to go for a week.

The slowest week of his life. He and Harley barely talked a couple of times. Very brief, very short, and very worrisome, but some cool-off was needed. Something he had learned is not to cross boundaries. Harley will come when he has something to say. After eight long days, they finally managed to have a day for themselves.

Harley checked Dan’s location; he was on his way. He has been in Montreal for three days already, and tomorrow he has to leave because he has to attend the Grammys with Harper. He kept cleaning and polishing the bike that Dan had gotten, which was abandoned. A beautiful red Harley. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Garret told him during the match. He is Dan’s best friend, so when he said Dan was miserable, he must have known something. He didn’t want to not trust Dan now, at this point. Dan walked down the stairs into the garage with his night backpack. There was another topic in the back of his head that wanted to come out, but in all honesty, did he even need it?

“I thought you were not at home, music is not on.” he walked behind him and caressed his hair. “How are you?”

“Upset.”

“I understand. That night, I called Garret and told him to fuck off.” Harley looked at him curiously. “He, of course, couldn’t help himself and just called back the next day, but I told him I’m not going to meet him again until he asks for forgiveness.”

“I don’t want an apology, I don’t want you to talk to him again.”

Dan backed a step away in surprise. “I’m furious at him, and he is on time off, but you cannot ask me just to stop talking to him.”

“I shouldn’t even need to ask; you should not want to. He clearly doesn’t like me; he insulted me. Why do you want to be his friend?” Dan felt trapped, even though he had been hiding from him, and throughout the whole week, he had never mentioned how upset he was.

“You wouldn’t stop talking to your family. They haven’t even given me a chance, well, your brother is a dick, to be honest, and I haven’t asked you to leave them.” Dan left the backpack on the floor and tried to make Harley look at him. “Garret and the others, they are my brothers.”

Harley was not looking at him; he kept looking at his bike. He knows his family would never accept Dan; they think he is being too stubborn, just for a man, and after the match, he was sure his family would never accept him. He hasn’t said anything to Dan because he would be furious. Even after knowing that, if Dan asked him to stop talking to his family, he couldn’t. He loves them too much.

Dan took the cloth from Harley’s hand and made him stand, look at him. Harley was not really looking at him, and Dan got a weird feeling in his stomach. This was just a fight, wasn’t it? They are just disagreeing, and what Harley was saying was not wrong. Garret had been rude.

“Harley, look at me. I’m truly sorry. I, I can do it, I will not talk to him, ok?”

“Dan, that’s not how it works. This is not working. This should not be that difficult.”

“No, no. We can make it work.”

“I won’t talk to him, I promise, and I will leave the NHL. I can be a personal trainer or work somewhere else. I don’t spend a lot, and I have plenty of savings. I can survive, and then you will be less stressed, but please. Don’t do what I think you are doing.”

Dan grabbed Harley’s face, forcing him to look at his eyes. Harley flinched, his stomach shrank; the words of Garret resonated in his mind. Dan looked terrified. His beautiful golden eyes were now reddened, his lips were trembling, and he looked scared to death. Harley…  Harley was embarrassed by himself. How could he have been so blind as not to see it? Garret was so right.

Dan could be a prick, yes. Harley hated it when he acted like a teenager and a jerk. But Dan had been trying, imperfectly, but trying anyway. Meanwhile, Kenneth had bullied Dan, and the lack of involvement from his whole family was hurting Dan, but he did nothing. They weren’t a team. They weren’t even kind to each other. And Dan… Dan always folded when he feared Harley’s disappointment. He wasn’t in love or manipulative, as his family thought. He was just lonely. The truth settled like a stone in Harley’s chest: they were toxic together.

“You shouldn’t give up anything. This is not love. Dan, you have to understand, you don’t love me.” Dan shook his head. “What do you love about me? From us? We like hockey, but after that?” Harley laughed sadly. “The part of you I love the most is when you are not my boyfriend, but ref Cameron. Holy cow, that’s so sad.”

Dan wanted to say that he could be that person for him, but he couldn’t. He likes the feeling of control when he is a referee; his young self is proud of standing up to men who are bigger than him. That’s only one part of him; there are more things to enjoy than work. He enjoys hockey, but also likes curling, watching figure skaters perform, and snowboarding. He also enjoys goofing around, telling bad jokes, and having a foul mouth. He failed. He was not enough. Again. That’s when he gave up.

“You want to break up.”

“Yes. I think I want.”

Dan was trying not to sob in the middle of the street. It was still daytime, April was in the air already, and the bushes were about to bloom. He arrived at the river, and the ferry was already in operation; it was early enough, so he jumped on. He walked between the trees in between the cottages of Dorval’s Island, a little piece of nature in the middle of the river, like an oasis of green between the blue waters and the city around it. It felt like home. In the middle of the island was a pool that the neighbors maintained. Long ago, when he moved to Montreal, he considered buying one of the cottages there, but the ferry was closed in winter, making it troublesome. There was a pool in the middle of the island that was dirty after the winter, but he sat on the border and just then, allowed himself to break apart. A couple of elderly neighbors saw him, recognized the bunch of red hair, and left him alone. Oh, the problems of the youth.

His mind was not that respectful; it called him out for each single error he had made, but he didn’t see. He should have been kinder; he should have known what to say and how to behave. How does one act, thou? He grew up salvage, his uncle did the best he could. What were the Marshalls expecting? There are many things he can change; he can remove tattoos and learn new things. If there is one thing he excels at, it is putting in the effort and being persistent. That’s not the problem. Maybe… Maybe he is not worth the trouble.

That’s it. Perhaps he can change, but he is just not worth the effort. It’s not enough that he is trying, because everyone else is already there. Harley can find someone who is just better than him and doesn’t need to work for it. Not even his parents tried to be patient and left him to rely on himself. That’s why he knows he can put in the work; he needs someone who stays around long enough.

It happened before; he shouldn’t be surprised. This is not the first time he has been left in the curve, because he was not worth the trouble, and to be honest, that fucked him up because he cannot remember the faces of his ex-boyfriends since him. He keeps repeating that his tattoos are about his life, when in fact, he had changed the meaning of all of them and then left him, because what they had was too much trouble. It hurt so much. It made a crease, a ravine, inside of him. The person Dan was before would have never begged anyone for anything. The mess he was now… couldn’t stand another failure. 

This was it. This is the finish line. This is rock bottom. He is 31 years old, crying on a remote island because his boyfriend has broken up with him, and yet that one guy from years ago keeps haunting his life and every single thought in his head. Pierre was right, yet again, and it has taken him years to realize he has to stop. He is no longer going to wait. Closure will come, even if he has to force it.

Dan checked the schedules with his phone while walking back to the little ferry. It was early afternoon. Dan jumped back on the ferry.  

Chapter Text

New York JFK Airport, February 2nd, 2014

The airport had allowed the Olympic committee to use one of the meeting rooms for coordinating travel. The Olympics were scheduled for the following week, but the staff would travel a week earlier so they could sync with the rest of the world’s staff members. Pierre entered the room with the confidence of being one of the best referees in the NHL, and in his second Olympics. Shortly behind followed a redhead, Dan, who nodded and greeted the group of sports doctors, nurses, referees, and judges from various winter sports. For his short time in the few NHL matches he did, he began working there as a line that season and the AHL games, and having moved to Montreal a month before, he already knew most of the people in the offices and other sports that the Montreal arena hosted.

“It is not going to be that bad.” Dan was talking in French.

“Renard, it’s illegal.”

“Public demonstrations are illegal. What I want to do to that Japanese figure skater is not for public view.” Pierre took one of his hands to his eyes and looked at a familiar face to run away from that conversation. Pierre extended his hands and hugged a tall, blond man who was sitting back in the room, along with another known face.

“Wes! Nice to see you.”

“Happy that you made it on time. How was the first flight?”

“On average, I could walk around JFK with my closed eyes at this point. Benjamin Herbert, nice to see you here. I see we have another first timer?”

Garret was walking at the end of the room, talking to his phone.

“Yes. North is going to the line. This is the new guy! I think I haven’t had the pleasure of playing with you yet. Wes Cooper. Are you also in the line?”

“Daniel Cameron, but you can call me Dan. Yes.”

The Olympic manager clapped his hands a couple of times to get everyone’s attention, and Garret went back to Wes. He looked a bit surprised to see the Franco-Canadians there, but his gaze lingered on Dan. 

“Hi… do we know each other?”

Dan puffed a bunch of air. “We played last month in Boston.”

Garret thought about it for a second and kind of remembered him, but he had to run back home, so he didn’t even shower there. 

“I remember, I’m sorry I didn’t stay for beers. I had a lot going on at home, and I just needed to drive back. Maybe next time we can grab something together?”

The group of people in front of them shushed him, and he whispered, “It was him!” pointing at Dan. The red-haired bumped shoulders with him, happy to have someone closer in age to him during the trip. He didn’t pay much attention to the pre-flight meeting, stealing glances at the man at his side. He had a little mole in the corner of his right eye, and his short hair was trying to curl; he probably has very curly hair. He looks like one of those statues from the Romans. Is his family Italian? The manager said something funny, and he smiled. Dan couldn’t stop himself from smiling himself.

They had a pre-flight meeting to discuss the three different routes they would take, as there were no tickets on the same plane for everyone. Medical personnel would travel directly through Moscow, while the judges would take a longer route through Zurich, which would leave them stranded for five hours there. Wes, Pierre, and Dan booked a room at the Radisson Airport Hotel to sleep, or at least rest comfortably during that time. They talked about security in Russia, laws, restrictions, and all the anti-LBGTQ laws. 

“That goes for you, for everyone, but especially you, Cameron! Rainbow clothes are ok; open gay stuff, not that ok; kissing dudes in the street, absolutely no.” Dan gave a thumbs-up.

“I will try my best!” He shouted, while some people laughed with him. 

“I don’t think the russian winter is good for street fucking anyway, you can get your dick stuck in a lampost,” Garret murmured so low, but Cameron chuckled, grabbed his arm, and whispered to his ear. 

“I’m from Canada. I know how to unstuck a dick from a frozen lampost.” 

“If you say, peeing on it, I’m leaving screaming.”

“Do you think I’m a water sports referee?”

The organizer stopped talking, while Pierre slapped Dan in the neck and Wes called Garret by both name and surname, so both men would stop laughing. Everyone had stopped talking and looked at both of them with some laughter, some reproachful looks. Garret sat back into his chair, like a child who had been out sneaking, and Dan did the same, while sharing little gazes and forcing themselves not to laugh. 

“I will give you your tickets now. I get judges; Ellen has medical. OK, figure skating? Speed? There you have. Hockey?” Wes grabbed the papers and looked through them. 

“We’re missing one. Cameron is not here.” Dan’s face whitened as if all the blood had left his body. 

“Cannot be, you guys are four.”

“Five, we are five.” Garret walked closer. The manager looked through the papers again, then his list. “We are missing Daniel Cameron.”

“Daniel Cameron, curling?” said the manager, and Garret repeated the exact phrase to Dan, mockingly. 

Dan breathed; he was so worried that he needed to stand or his legs would run away from his body. 

“DaNYEL, not Daniel.” He said, pronouncing slowly to both men. 

“Danielle?”

“Yes, whatever and hockey. Dan is doubling it up.” Pierre stopped what could be an hour-long fight about pronunciation.

Garret looked at him with curiosity. Dan got his papers and sat down in the chair again. For one second, he thought he wouldn’t make it and had to go back home alone. That would be a disaster. He wanted to break a record for once and become the youngest NHL referee, and then go to the Olympics for two sports. That would look great in his career.

“Is that how you managed to get selected?“ Herbert asked. 

“Yes! I’m an easy fix for the federation.”

“You look like an easy fix,” Garret whispered, looking side-eyed at Dan. The Canadian had those smiling lines in the corner of his amber eyes.

“You look like you could use a fix.” That was it, Garret would run away or punch him in the face, but he was so damn fun, Dan wanted to check how far he could go from the first day. It was a surprise that Garret just looked at him, mouth open, his eyes so black he could see himself in them like two mirrors. Dan shivered, forced a laugh, patted Garret’s leg, and got up. “Don’t start fights you cannot finish! Come on, we have to get going.”

Dan gave him a hand, and Garret hesitated. He grabbed it, slowly, and Dan pulled him off the chair, sending it a couple of inches away. “Jesus Christ.”

When they were called to the plane and were ready to board, Pierre looked at his tickets as he walked through the tunnel to the airplane, then he took Dan’s tickets without even asking. Dan didn’t even flinch. 

“Renard, what number do you have?”

“Eleven,” Dan pointed at the number in the paper.

“But you are the window?” Dan nodded in affirmation; the Frenchman swore in French. “I’m in the middle seat? Oh no. I thought the window seat would be ten, so twelve would be in the aisle.”

Garret was walking behind them with the state’s referees, looking at his ticket, which listed his seat number as thirteen.

“Do you want to change with me?”

Pierre grabbed his face and kissed his cheek. “Merci. I cannot spend eight hours in the middle with these legs.” Pierre was the tallest of them with his 2 meters because he was damn French. Wes followed closely, with 6’4. Dan was convinced he was 6 feet tall, Garret was sure Dan couldn’t do math, and both were 5’11”, Herbert couldn’t care less that he was 5’9”. 

“We can fit, we will manage,” Garret said, looking at Dan and winking an eye, who snorted unpleasantly to him. 

“Don’t talk like we’re the same, I’m taller than you.”

“In the moon, perhaps. You’re as tall as me.” They fought until they sat in their seats. Sitting side by side, Dan was taller. “We’re sitting! I have long legs.”

“I will check them out later.” Dan winked at him, and Garret took a big breath. “This is going to be a lot of fun.” Dan thought. 

It was 2 pm when the captain told them they were ready to depart, eight hours to Zurich. The five of them talked for a while. Herbert was engrossed in some book, Wes and Pierre were on a rant about politics and grown-up shit. Dan was busy playing with his console, and Garret didn’t plan very well this flight. He looked through the window behind Dan, and the sun was setting somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, with silvery clouds here and there shining with iridescent colors. The light was golden and hit the window, so he looked away, blinded for a second. He looked at Dan. He must have forgotten to breathe. His dark red hair was on fire, with orange, yellow, and red reflections. And his eyes. His eyes were shining, not brown or amber; they shone like pure gold. He looked like he was glowing from the inside. His heart made a very unhealthy thump; it physically hurt, so he instinctively moved a hand there. His heart was racing.

“You are staring,” Dan said, not even moving from his game on the console. “Am I that hot?”

“Yes,” Garret said, and Mario fell to his death in the console. Dan looked back at him with one single raised eyebrow. “I’m mostly bored, though.” Dan rolled his eyes back, drank from a water bottle, and restarted his game. 

The water bottle was there, on the table. Garret moved it a bit with his pinky finger. He grabbed the plane catalogue and moved it a bit more, checking the prices of perfume and watches that he couldn’t buy. And when the plane encountered a minor disturbance, he seized the opportunity and moved it until it fell all over Dan.

“Mon crist du tabarnak!” 

He screamed, and Garret died of laughter. Pierre shushed Dan while Wes called the attendant to bring some paper towels, and Garret grabbed them. 

“Are you a fucking cat? Gros colon! If you break my console, I will kill you.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” He went to try to dry Dan’s t-shirt. 

“You are absolutely not sorry.”

Garret was still laughing, not disagreeing with him. He was passing the paper towels on Dan’s when he felt something. He stopped. He passed a thumb this time. Dan was clearly fit; there was no doubt about it. He was wearing only a t-shirt and had left his sweater on the side. He felt the creasing of abs in his hand, then something cold, metallic in his navel. Dan backed off the seat, sucking his stomach, his cheeks also turning red. ‘Sweet Karma,’ Garret said to himself.

“Are you having fun?” Dan said when he did it yet again, Garret snorted. 

“What a slut.”

“Well, I’m just sitting here, and you are the one playing around, so if you are not going to invite me to dinner, get off of me.” 

“I can fix dinner.” Garret threw him some trail mix on the table, and Dan was trying not to laugh again, because he was supposed to be annoyed.

“Damn, you like to play with fire, uh?” 

“This made it? You are easy and cheap,” Garret said, opening the trail mix bag, looking pitiful to Dan. “I’m very bored.”

“And you decided to make that my problem?” Garret nodded, unashamed. Maybe Dan didn’t think through what it means to befriend a stray.

“Take this,” Dan said, detaching the controllers from his console and giving one to Garret. “Ok, tell me, what do you do in your free time?”

“I’m either in the gym or on the sofa, watching TV shows.” Mario Kart started playing, but they completely forgot about the game’s goal and spent their time trying to make the other player lose. “Have you seen Game of Thrones?” Dan shook his head. “It’s good, we are in season 4.”

“I haven’t, but tell me about it,”

“Don’t you want to watch it?”

“I don’t mind. Spoil it for me”, Dan said, and Garret thought that was the sexiest thing anybody had said to him in his life, and started talking. 

They landed in Zurich at 4 am local time; the airport was mostly empty and eerie, only a coffee shop was open, and some exhausted passengers were sleeping here and there. Pierre walked by Herbert and Wes in the direction of the lobby; their next flight won’t happen until 5 hours later. Pierre, Dan, and Wes had booked rooms in the Radisson and were walking there, dragging their cabin baggage with tiredness.  Pierre walked between the two Americans, with the drag of a tired dad.

“My goodness… he didn’t shut up for eight hours! I have no idea how Renard managed to do it. I’m exhausted, and he wasn’t even talking to me.”

“I was so happy when I didn’t get by his side,” Herbert reassured.  

The two youngest were walking behind them, talking and tripping each other, stopping at every other shop. The group stopped at the Radisson door. Herbert took Garret’s hand, and they sat in the lobby of the hotel, ready to wait for another 5 hours of boredom. Wes and Pierre were talking with one of the hotel workers, passing ID cards and reservations. Dan looked at Pierre and back to Herbert.

“Hey, Herbert. You look so tired. Do you want to take my place?” Herbert opened his eyes in surprise. “This hotel has a gym, and I need to stretch before the next plane. I think I will sleep from Zurich to Sochi and stay at the gym now.”
Wes waited with the keys in his hand, a bit of a concerned look on his face. 

“Are you sure? I will pay you the cost of the room.” Herbert got up and walked towards Pierre. Dan brushed it off. 

“It’s my fault for not planning well. I need to move or I may die, I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted.”

“I’m going to take your word. I will make a group chat and find you two later when we are back.”   

The three of them walked into the elevator to the room, leaving both of them alone in the Radisson hall. Dan smiled at Garret, sitting on the couch. “Those fucking crinkles in his eyes.” Dan scrunched his nose, and Garret felt like he had become one with the sofa.

“Do you want to go to the gym? Sweat it out?” 

Garret felt he was going to have a heart attack, and it felt so lovely. Life was such a boring disappointment that he came alive when a bad idea presented itself. Dan extended a hand, again, and he got swooped. 

“Do we have to pay?”

“You don’t have to pay for many things if you just walk with enough confidence,” 

Dan confidently walked towards the gym sign. It wanted to call itself a gym, but it barely had anything helpful: a couple of treadmills, a couple of stationary bikes, some adjustable dumbbells, and not much. Garret stretched in front of the mirrors while Dan charged his phone and got some music going. He was absolutely stiff; this was not a bad idea after all. The bad idea was stretching around Dan, when his t-shirt was already getting too tight, and he changed to shorts and took out his contacts for a pair of forest green glasses. “Why was he keeping the hockey routine?“ Garreth wondered. He is younger; he probably wants to look good. Garret didn’t continue with the same training or routines after he stopped playing in the AHL, and comparing the two, it was evident. He lost a lot of weight, and by all means, other people would consider him athletic, but not at Dan’s level. Now he was a bit jealous of Dan’s body. Does he want to be like Dan or does he want...? Oh! Dan was stretching on the floor. Garret went to the treadmill, trying not to look, and began a light jog. He peeked through the mirrors and saw that Dan had some tattoos on his thighs, a snowy mountain in the shape of a diamond. His other leg also had some thigh tattoos that extended into his upper and inner thigh. He chuckled when Dan joined the next treadmill, and he confirmed the bunch of tattoos. 

“You are a slut. What are those tattoos?” Dan ignored him but puffed his chest and kept running. “Do you have a piercing in your dick too?” 

“And wait two months to have sex? No way. I cannot be a slut that way.” They were silent, stealing glances and smiles in the mirror, but Garret couldn’t stay quiet. 

“Why does Pierre call you Renard?” He asked with way too many rolled r’s. Dan shook his head. 

“It was my AHL name.” 

Garrett thought about it for one second. Red hair, AHL… “Wait, you are the AHL Ottawa dude? The one with red and white hair? I was your ref for like a year!”

Dan laughed loudly. “Now you get it? I said it in the meeting we had when I joined the referees! I thought you recognized me, and you were being an asshole. Renard? The fox?” He said, pointing at his hair. “I used to dye the lower half white. I remember you being my ref for a… wait, was it a Florida Ottawa? I think so. You forgot, wow.” 

Garret went all red in the face and looked away. “I don’t pay too much attention in those meetings, and you look uglier now.” 

“Oh, Chaton.” 

“What was that? Another insult?” 

“That means cat, in French.” 

Garret’s cheeks were red and hurt so much, but he tried to act cool. “Ok, Renard.”

“My turn to ask questions.” Garret moved a hand in a ‘go on’ sign. “Are you gay or something?” Garret tripped and hung on the machine bars while muttering a ‘Jesus Christ’; his eyes went wild for a second, but then he took a deep breath and went back to a stable jogging, clearing his throat. Dan looked at him, amused, and a “WOW” came out of his mouth. “Is that a yes?”

“Sometimes.” 

“Aha! That’s the deal,” Dan thought for himself, looking at Garret through the mirror. “Like, odd days only?”

“Stop with that smile, it’s fucked up. Stop messing with me.” 

“But I haven’t even started, darling. Next question?”

Garret looked at his thighs. “What about the tattoos?”

The next plane departed from Zurich at 9:00 a.m. local time. Pierre was happily and calmly reading his newspaper in his aisle seat, enjoying the silence and peace, a disgusting cup of airport coffee in his hand. Wes was reading the Sochi briefing, maps, and accommodations. Herbert opened his book but first looked to the seats behind and chuckled. Garret passed out on Dan’s shoulder, covered by the Canadian Olympic sweater, and Dan was sleeping on Garret’s head with his glasses on.

Chapter Text

3 February, Sochi

They arrived at their apartment after 2:00 p.m., and the Olympic manager gave them an apartment in one of the staff members’ buildings. The entrance hall led to a small, open kitchen that had a small breakfast bar; the living room had a small balcony with nothing on it. It was winter after all. Dan took off his shoes, and the Americans followed. “I guess it’s a shoe-off house,” they mumbled between them. He threw his bags on the way and ran to open the balcony. He could see the white cap mountains in the distance and breathed in the cold, fresh air. He smiled. He was there; he was the youngest referee of the modern era, and qualified for the Olympics in his first year working for the NHL. Sure, with a bit of help from curling, but still. A win is a win, and he is in Sochi. A place the guys who bullied him out of the AHL would ever see. 

“Close the door! Not everybody has your tolerance for cold!” Pierre shouted, looking at the two rooms on each side of the living room. “I think the small room is Canada, and the big one is the USA.” 

“USA! USA!” Garret screamed while taking his jacket off and rearranging everyone’s luggage so they won’t trip. 

Herbert jumped over and ran to what looked like a toilet, while Wes and Pierre sat on the living room sofa and complained about the lack of a sofa table. Dan went to the small room, which had two twin beds, two little bedside tables, a closet, and a green couch by the window. The rooms had a very disputable yellow split color walls, a red comforter, white sheets, a few towels, and something else. There were bags in each bed, featuring the colors of the Sochi Olympics. He looked at the first one, and it had his name written on a paper. 

“Guys! The beds are named! We got presents. This is me and…” He looked at the other bed and smirked. “It’s me and North!” 

Wes looked at Pierre, satisfied. “Children’s room and adults’ room?” 

“I deem that appropriate.” The French said and followed Wes to the big room with three twin beds. “I think my feet are going to fall from this…”

Herbert came back from the in-suite bath and touched the mattress. “I think sleeping on the floor is softer than this mattress.”

Garret walked into the room behind Dan, while he opened his backpack, spreading all the presents on the bed. Sport clothes, pins, and water bottles fell on the comforter.  

“We got a fucking phone? Look at that! This is so cool.”

Garret opened his bag and grabbed the hoodie, which had too many colors in it… 

“Jesus Christ. They cannot say they are not a gay country and then make this hoodie. What were they thinking? To match all the colors at the same time?” 

He was getting too used to hearing Dan’s laugh, but it was so nice, he couldn’t stop himself. It was nice for once to have someone to listen to and joke around with. He grabbed his new phone and sat on the green couch. 

Dan was doing little jumps while opening all the bags; it was better than Christmas. He got a Canadian bag with all Canadian things, and now he has the Olympic bag. He barely brought anything personal beyond underwear and the pack of condoms he wanted to use with the Japanese figure… he looked at the man on the couch.

“Wow, this is so cool.” He said that the white and colorful t-shirt from the Olympic committee, which had his name, “Cameron,” stamped on it, and “Judge” below, was extended to him. Dan looked at him for a second. He grabbed his t-shirt and took it off, and took his time to let the tee nicely fold before putting on the Olympic one. Was he a show-off? Of course. Garret shook his head and smirked. Pierre showed his head in the door while knocking. 

“If we want to fight the jet lag, we need to keep awake until Sochi sleep time. Get dressed, we are going out. Nice T-shirt, Renard! Come on, let’s find a shop and buy food. This door is on the wrong side.” Pierre said, looking at their door. “Why does it open to the outside? So uncomfortable.”

“Maybe it’s a russian thing?” Dan shrugged, and Pierre closed their door. 

“We have an in-suite bath, Pierre!” Herbert shouted through the door, and Pierre’s footsteps walked away. 

Garret walked behind Dan towards the door, but just when he was about to grab the handle, Dan went behind his back and grabbed the handle himself. All his skin went on flames, shivers from his spine to his head, he didn’t dare to move. 

“You are wearing my sweater.” 

Dan was so close to him that he could feel his chest against his back. Garret looked at himself, red in the face and embarrassed. He was, of course, wearing the Canada sweater. He had woken up with it over him and put it on when they were landing, but never got it back to Dan. He never asked for it. He said 45 degrees was not really cold. He turned around, but Dan didn’t move one inch to give him some space; he was just there looking, eyebrows raised in expectation, and a stupid grin. He grabbed the back of the sweater and took it off over his head, of course, almost taking his t-shirt with it, but Dan grabbed the back of the tee and pulled it down, not without brushing his knuckles on Garret’s back. He hissed and took a step back, his head banging on the door. 

“I’m married!” He babbled, and his mind went to war in a second. Why did he say that? Well, he should have said it way earlier! Dan looked at him unamused. 

“I know.” Garret couldn’t be any redder in the face; he was making Dan’s hair look blonde.  “Oh my god, North. You were in that presentation meeting, too! You said it there, and contrary to you, I do give a shit about people’s presentations.”

“I guess that’s where he concentrates the fucks given. Oh, wait, he had that stupid horseshoe tattoo about that married dude that groomed him when he was barely legal.” He surprised himself with feelings of anger. Dan got a step closer, and Garret couldn’t back up anymore against the door. Dan’s chest was on his, and Garret was embarrassed because he was sure Dan could feel how his heart was about to break through his ribs. 

“I also know you are not wearing a ring. Divorced?”

“Separated. I cannot divorce.”

“Religion?”

“A bad prenump. Cheating clause is on.”  

Dan looked at his side, thinking. “It’s illegal to be gay outdoors, and I don’t think your wife is under those beds, Chaton. We can have some fun in Sochi. ” 

He remembered the call he got from his dad the morning they left for Sochi. “For once, you are going to be free to be yourself. It’s weird, it has to be in Russia.” Oh, Garret was so fucked. He was almost sure his dad was talking about going out with friends, not cheating on his wife, even if she was the devil incarnate. Or maybe he did? His dad is kind of weird. Separated or not, he wanted to kiss Dan so bad that he couldn’t stop looking at Dan’s lips, and he was a second away from hyperventilating. Dan got less than an inch from his face and opened the weird outwards door, making Garret fall on his ass outside their room. Dan crackled, folded in half, sitting on the floor, dying of laughter. Wes showed a head shake in disappointment. Garret was holding his own laugh. 

“You are a fucking asshole.”

“I am,” 

Dan said, putting on his sweater and stepping over him to get out of the room, giving him a hand and pulling him up. Dan went to put on his shoes with a dumb smile on his face. His sweater smelled different. It was nice.

Pierre came out wearing the elegant gray jacket from French equipment, and Dan refused to wear anything other than the Canadian sweater. Herbert was wearing his regular clothes because he didn’t like the feeling of the new equipment. Garret got the USA navy blue jacket, but Wes… he decided to go with the USA cardigan. They left the house in silence and giggles; even Herbert was looking at the youngest with a half-smile.

“Ok! I’m done, what’s going on!” Wes screamed, and the four of them stopped in the middle of the Olympic village street and cracked together. 

“It’s like, it’s like Pierre’s three-year-old made your cardigan while drunk,” Dan said, grabbing Garret’s arm. 

“It’s triggering my OCD so hard,” Herbert said. “I’m serious. I’m not wearing that.”

“It’s not you, Wes. You are so handsome. That cardigan is hideous.” 

“It looks like it’s made with the leftovers from other cardigans.” 

“It’s missing a fucking bald eagle there.”

“Oh, fuck you all.” He said, walking faster in front of the chorus of laughs. “You have way too many opinions!” They ran to him, several arms hugging him from behind. 

“It’s ok, collage is a very respectable art.” 

“It doubles up as a fugly Christmas sweater.”

“This star here is not even the same size as the others!” 

They walked around the Olympic village and took some pictures of the Olympic rings. Herbert and Wes decided they were not going to climb to the upper rings, so Herbert sat in the green and Wes in the yellow one. 

“I’m not sitting in the black one.” Said Pierre. 

“Well, I’m not sitting in the red one.” Said Dan. Garret pushed them one ring away. 

The picture finished with Garret sitting inside the red circle, Dan over the black one, and Pierre in the blue. 

They bought everything they needed for snacks and breakfast, and they could eat in the food courts of the village. The adults were getting ready for bed around nine, so they took several bags of groceries and food and left for their new home for the next three weeks. Garret was sitting at the breakfast bar, looking at the group of pictures they had taken that day, deciding which one to send to his parents. Dan passed by and grabbed a glass of water. 

“Cats shouldn’t sit on the counter,” pulling him from his legs, making him jump out of the countertop. 

“Jesus Christ, can you stop pushing me around? Always doing that.” Garret said, as if ‘always’ had been his whole life, and not ‘the day before’. 

“Kids, we are going to sleep. You had a nap on the plane, but we are exhausted. Don’t break the house.” Wes said, slapping the wall a couple of times and then walking away. Dan jumped and sat on the counter by himself. 

“Ey! I don’t think foxes should be allowed in the counter, either.” Garret went to push him out of the counter, but at the last second, he grabbed his tee from his chest and stopped him from falling. Dan felt he was falling, so he hugged Garret, throwing half of the water.

“Again?” Dan jumped anyway, crashing into him. “I can take the hint. I’m going to the shower.”

Garret went to their room, closed the door behind him, and sat on the green couch, playing with his new phone while the sound of the shower was in the background. He created a new Google account, a new profile, and a different username, all linked to his new Russian number. He added himself to the group chat and left it from his American number. When he finished, he texted his dad with his new phone and turned off his “American” phone. Goodbye for three weeks, USA.  

He was lost in thought, replaying what had happened that day. He could say with all honesty that today had been the funniest day of his entire life. The playing, the banter, the endearing insults, the witty comebacks, the being childish with someone who not only is not embarrassed, but follows the “yes, and” rule every second of his life. The arms around shoulders, the back hugs, the pushing and pulling closer, the fingers brushing. This day was overwhelmingly perfect. He didn’t want it to end. He kept scrolling through the photos he took that day, for the time being, regretting not having a photo of Dan in the light of the plane. A brief selfish thought crossed his mind in a second: if Dan doesn’t care, if his home was already broken beyond repair, damn, beyond civil conversation without legal presence. Why should he care? He doesn’t. He is just scared, because one picture could destroy everything.  “It’s illegal to be gay outdoors, and I don’t think your wife is under those beds, Chaton.”  They cannot hook up or be gay on the outside, so that’s one less problem; this could be just friends with benefits, and she certainly isn’t in this room.

Dan came back from the shower wearing only a towel, brushing his hair as water fell down his back. He followed every muscle, every tattoo, licked his lips, and tried to remain calm. The warm glow of the bedside tables lit the room. Garret was already tired of hearing the exact two words he had been screaming in his head all day. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said, not sure if he had said it out loud or not, but Dan looked at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Pondering,” Garret said, unnaturally brief. 

“What are you pondering?”

“How fucking hot you are. How much trouble you are.”

Garret felt a bunch of butterflies in his stomach; he had never been that direct for a very long time, if ever, and maybe it was the jetlag, or perhaps it was the fact that he had literally closed his only connection to the States. Still, somehow, he had dared for one second to say what he was actually thinking.

On Dan’s upper left shoulder, almost to his waist, was a big tattoo of a red and white fox walking in a winter forest. Dan stretched, and all the muscles of his back flexed. The fox on his back moved as if it was going to jump from Dan’s skin and eat him alive. The line of his column trailed to the dimples of his back, teasing. The sound of a camera shutter clicking obnoxiously in the room, and a soft grumble. Dan snapped his head back to the one grinning on the green couch.

“Did you just take a picture of me? Without my consent?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have this rehearsed.” 

Dan walked towards him, stood between Garrett’s legs, looking at the picture. Damn, it was an excellent picture of his tattoo. Dan got his knee on the armrest, moving Garret’s hand away and getting closer and closer to him, but Garret moved his hand back to Dan’s thighs, dancing around the myriad of little tattoos.. His breath was picking up, and Dan was sure he could hear Garret’s heartbeat gallop from that distance. Garret left the phone on the side and looked upwards, to the man who was in his lap. 

“Tell me, how many times has that play worked out?” 

Dan stopped half an inch from Garret’s half-opened mouth; his breath was fast and unsteady. “Every time.” 

“I shouldn’t.” Garret waited for a second, dark lakes looking at his mouth. This is his last chance to back up. 

“Then blame me.” 

Dan faintly touched Garret’s lower lip with the tip of his tongue, and Garret’s hand grabbed him from the back of the neck and pushed him to his mouth. Their tongues met, and both of them groaned after getting what both had been thinking all day. Since before. Since the sunlight illuminated a beautiful devil. Since dark pools reflected Dan’s face. Dan grabbed him by the short hair and protested.

“You need to let your hair grow.” 

Garret purred under him and grabbed his ass from under the towel with a hungry hand, bringing him closer and starting to kiss and lick his chest, going slowly down to his muscles, until he got to that place he had been wishing all day. Garret played with the bit of piercing in his tongue while moving his hand from his thighs under the towel. Dan moaned too loudly. Garret opened his eyes in panic.
“Shut the fuck up!” 

Dan chuckled, “You said what?” eyes on each other, and without warning, without taking his eyes off him, Garret took the towel and threw it away. He chuckled 

“Natural red hair, does it taste different?” and licked the head of his dick, and then all of them. Dan thought his eyes would roll back, and he would see his brain, that man was sucking him as if this was revenge. To be honest, it probably was. Dan was loving it, and at the same time, he wanted to piss him off so much for being that good. How is he this good? 

“Does Miss North know you like to have other men’s dick in your mouth?”

Garret got him out of his mouth but kept stroking him. “That’s one of the many reasons we don’t live together.”

“Good to know you don’t need help ruining your marriage. I think you should get a divorce.” 

“But we’ve only just met, darling.” 

Garret said, smiling, and he dragged his tongue all the way to the tip and winked at him. Oh, Dan wanted to keep bantering as much as keeping Garret’s sassy mouth busy. Well, maybe not as much. Garret grabbed him by the ass with both hands, pushing him harder in his mouth. He almost fell from the couch and grabbed the back of it. Garret grabbed his other thigh, making him kneel in both armrests, and his hands wandered in his column, making him shiver. It kept going down, and he brushed his fingers softly in his hole. Dan moaned loudly again, and Garret pinched him. Yes, if he wanted to warn him of being too loud, squeezing his ass is not going to work as he thinks it will. This was too good, and he was not ready to finish now. Dan jumped out of the couch, and this time he didn’t pull Garret; he hauled him as if nothing else mattered, and their mouths crashed again, their tongues matched rhythm immediately. They backed up to the bed, but they stopped, looked at each other, and at the twin bed that barely fit them. 

“Wait, we can fix this.” He pushed both twin beds together. 

“They are going to fall apart.” 

“Well, then we fuck on the floor if that happens, Chaton.”

“You are insane. Let’s do it.” 

Garret’s smile stopped when he grabbed him from his neck again and pushed Dan against him. The redhead took Garret’s t-shirt off and looked down at the black short stubble. His hand went through all his chest, down every ridge of his abs to the belt in his trousers, unbuttoned both, and dragged them down, slowly. Dan was happily surprised to see that he may be bigger in muscles, but Garret won him over in the dick department. There’s nothing to be ashamed of; he is going to enjoy it anyway. He was already hard and dripping, and Dan was a man on a mission; tonight, someone is getting fucked. He pushed Garret to the bed and covered him, stretching a hand towards a little bag he had left on his side table. He grabbed the lube and a condom, showing the former to Garret with a questioning look.

“It was so long ago I may have forgotten. Why don’t you go first? I will take the next turn.”

“God, you are so much fun.” 

Dan got some lube in his hands and lay by Garret, kissing him hungrily while stroking him. Garret’s hand joined him, so Dan moved slowly to his balls, brushing the soft dark hair, going slowly behind. He reached his hole, caressed, and Garret moaned, and it was like a low rumble in his mouth. This beautiful, fun, bitch of a man was arching his back by him while he was fingering him, and he couldn’t stop himself from biting his neck. Garret let go of his dick with a gasp and hugged him, white knuckles hands like claws in his back. The pain made Dan hiss and swear. He has to fuck him now, ready or not. Dan jumped between his legs, grabbed one of the pillows, and pulled him up with an arm, leaving the pillow under him. He kept kissing him while entering him, and Garret whimpered. 

“Careful.”

“Let go, Chaton. You are mine tonight.”

Garret breathed in and out, touching himself, but he would let go just to bring Dan closer to him. They picked the pace, Garret kept destroying his back, grabbing him as if he was going to drown in the sea, swearing like a sailor. Dan was ready to go down with the ship. He moved faster, and Garret followed him, matching him in a way that was unknown to him. He really moved like a feline. Why does he know how to move like that? Garret clasped a hand in his mouth, trying to stifle a groan of his release. Dan wanted to move his stupid hand; he wanted to hear him scream, but he guessed it was more sensible that way, so he did the same. He was about to come. Garret got his hand away and pushed him in his mouth, after saying. 

“Fuck! Daniel.” 

That threw him over, his name, his name as it should be in that mouth that he was kissing. He came hard, between sweat and whimpers, while Garret was inside his mouth. 

Pierre went to the kitchen ready to cook some breakfast, but the kids were already there. Garret was making some eggs, and Dan was cutting fruit, fastened to each other’s shoulders. He looked at Wes and Herbert on the sofa, watching the news and having a coffee, and that’s it, because they didn’t have a stupid sofa table.

“Bonjour, bg,” Dan said, giving him a cup of coffee. Pierre kissed his cheek. 

“Bonjour, Renard. Bonjour, North.” He said, slapping his butt, walking away.

Garret froze for a second, biting his lips, looking at nowhere in front of him… but there was a giggle at his side, he looked, and Dan was wheezing.

“Fucking asshole.” He whispered, looking behind to the other men.

“That’s literally you, Chaton.” 

"You are going to regret that tonight."

Chapter Text

7th February, Sochi

The light of the new day shone through the half-opened window; more reasons for Garret to keep him close at night. The last days had been too warm for Dan’s comfort; he really had stronger expectations of the Russian winter. There was movement outside, all the players were already in the village, and it was filled with noise, laughter, and people singing in different languages, even this early in the morning. Dan couldn’t be happier because, with all that excitement, he also had a beautiful man between his legs, who decided to have him for breakfast. He smiled to himself, because Garrett’s white ass was just there at the feet of the bed, with a strong line of tan from his shorts and t-shirt painted on his body. As a good cat, he just stayed in the sun for hours. Dan only dared to be under the shade, and he still had rosy cheeks. He caressed his hair, breathing everything in, until he felt a biting pain. Wait, a literal biting pain.    

“What the fuck! Are you trying to bite my leg off?”

Garret pointed to the coin, the horseshoe. “I don’t want to see them. These two in particular, fuck those guys, and your brother is on fucking thin ice.” Garret said, passing his tongue through the white space between the tattoos. Dan giggled. He has to think about why he likes pissed Garret so much. “Actually, I only like your uncle.” He said, passing a thumb over a little amanita tattoo. “The rest of them can fuck off.” 

“They are part of me, you like it or not. Wouldn’t be here without all of that.” 

Garret kept biting, this time not that hard, going upwards following the tattoos until his underwear, and he kept kissing and biting. 

“What about me?” Dan looked below, towards two big black eyes, like a cat about to jump you. “Am I part of you? What good luck am I going to be?”

“Good luck?! You are the worst mistake ever made.” 

Garret bit his dick through his boxers, and Dan groaned, just in time for a knock on the door and Wes’s voice going through. Both groaned. 

“Dan, you got a package from Ikea. What have you done?” 

They dressed up in whatever they found on the floor and got out. IKEA had delivered a couple of bags to their door, some boxes, towels, a very inexpensive sofa table, additional kitchenware, and several mattresses. 

“I called the federation. I told them we were in terrible conditions and if things didn’t change, we would start getting back pain and miss some matches.” Pierre shook his head, but smiled proudly. “They gave me a quantity of money, so we got ourselves some stuff we needed. We got soft mattresses for everyone; they have to breathe for some time before using them, so don’t just jump on them.” 

The five of them started to bring everything inside the house. Pierre was putting the towels in the washing machine, Garret got the boxes, and Herbert moved the mattresses to the side. 

“Scissors! I didn’t know I missed them. Oh! Lunch boxes, we can pick up food from the food court and eat at home. Nice.” Wes remarked from the kitchen. 

“This one is wrong,” Herbert said, grabbing a big mattress. “It’s a double, not two singles. They made a mistake.”

The room suddenly tensed, and everyone froze in place. Wes looked at Pierre, Dan looked at Garret, and Dan looked at Pierre; they all looked at each other, and Dan snorted a laugh. Garret threw a hand to his eyes, mumbling “Jesus Christ”, and Pierre rolled his eyes.

“Should we address the elephant in the room?” Dan said. 

“I know nothing, I see nothing,” Wes said, going to the open kitchen.

“Herbert…” Garret said pitifully to one of his closest friends. Herbert looked at them, very confused. “Herbert, I’ve been sleeping with Dan all this time.” 

“Yes, I know.” Nobody thought he really knew. Pierre looked away and tried to hide behind Wes, because the open concept little kitchen didn’t have a place to hide.      

“Yes… But, you know. In the same bed, too.”

“Why would you want that?” Dan couldn’t hold it anymore and went to the kitchen to hide behind Pierre and Wes. The blonde man extended his arms in dismay, surrounded by the Franco-Canadian members of the group, dying of second-hand embarrassment. 

“The bees and the birds, Benjamin!” Wes screamed, and Herbert paled, finally understanding, letting the big mattress go.

“And well, now that the elephant is out, just a little mention,” Garret said, especially looking at Dan. “What happens in Sochi, stays in Sochi.”

Garret grabbed the big mattress and some sheets and took them to their room. Pierre and Wes looked at Dan with some concern and surrounded the younger. 

“Do you know what is going on in his life?” Wes asked, whispering, the second Garret disappeared from the living room. 

“Something? I know he is separated; he doesn’t live with his wife.”

“Elisabeth, yes. Then you are aware of her existence and what that means.” 

“Yes, I’m a consenting adult. We’re just… It’s just a Sochi thing.” Dan was starting to feel like he was talking to his dad. 

“He is one of my friends, but that’s not enough to let people get hurt. His life… It’s a mess. I could give you an example if you Google him about why he left the AHL.”

“I’m not going to Google him. He is just right there.” Pierre disagreed and grabbed his phone from his pocket.

“He will not tell you. He prefers the media version of the story, but at least it is a story. I know it’s worse.” 

“Putain!” Pierre was reading a hockey blog, and Dan saw a young Garret in a picture wearing a New York AHL Cardinals uniform. “He prefers this? What happened then?” Pierre pushed the phone to him, and reluctantly, he read the title. 

New York AHL forward Garret North hospitalized in Las Vegas following reported overdose

“I don’t give a shit, ” he threw the phone back to Pierre. 

“I barely know what actually happened, but I know that was kind of the start of the problems. Damn, I didn’t even know he was…” 

“Queer?” Dan said, kind of piss off at this moment.

“And by the reaction, Herbert neither, and he knows everything. I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to stop you. Go and have fun; I haven’t seen him this happy since…” Wes thought for a second. “Ever. But I am worried about you getting too involved. His life is objectively messy. Don’t get invested.”

Dan walked to their room and waited in the doorway, watching him work on the mattresses. Garret’s life is shit. He still looks at him and looks as if Dan is the most fantastic prize, and follows him whenever Dan calls his name. “Don’t get invested,” Wes said. Dan walked towards him, grabbed his face, and kissed him so hard that Garret had to take a step back. He flinched for a second. 

“The door.”

“They already know.” 

Dan said without stopping kissing him. Garret nodded and kissed him back, kissing his neck and shoulder, and hugged him tight. He always hugs him so tight that he has his whole back covered in marks at this point. It’s ok. He is strong. Maybe Wes was already too late for that advice.

Garret hugged him, closed his eyes, and was satisfied. His world had been that room, and now there was a whole house of people who knew and didn’t care; they were safe in there. It wasn’t much, but he had felt trapped for so many years that this little artificial freedom in that little apartment felt like heaven. They could hear the others in the living room. 

“How you didn’t know!” 

“I don’t know, I thought he got a new friend!” 

“And North is wearing Cameron’s clothes because they are so friendly.” Garret dragged his t-shirt to look behind; they were correct. He must have grabbed Dan’s clothes from the floor because it said “Cameron” in the back. Dan was shaking in his chest. 

“How can you sleep so well? They have been banging all night, all week!” 

“Ups!” Dan whispered, and they laughed together. Garret blushed, and they hid in each other’s necks. Dan smells like the forest and the woods; he needs to check what soap or deodorant he is using. 

“I wear earplugs for sleeping; they sell them in the convenience store!”

“They got a better mattress. We need more of those earplugs. Let’s go.” 

Everybody in the village was going in the direction of the opening ceremony, but Garret stood a bit behind. He sat in one of the Coca-Cola stands, while the rest of the group looked at where each country should go.  

“Are you sure?” Dan said, with a tint of sadness.

“Yes, I will walk around and call my dad. The ceremony sounds very boring, I’m not going to stay there for three hours watching people walk a flag.”

“Ok, keep an eye on the phone, we will text you when we finish.” Garret patted Dan’s shoulder and walked away. 

He needed a break, to breathe. This situation with Dan was getting out of hand, but he had no solution beyond being aware that they were just friends with benefits. However, he needed a second without him to cool off; this much attention was getting him too high. He grabbed something to drink from the food court and sat on the beach, looking at the sky and stars, listening to the far rumble of the opening ceremony. It was nice that it was a different country, inside this kind of Disney world of winter sports. It gave him that eerie feeling that this was not the real world, because it’s not. The real world is ugly, lonely, oppressive, and a struggle for survival. This place is fun, challenging, and beautiful. It felt hopeful to know that sharing a bed with someone is not always horrible, not if you really like the person you share it with. He remembered that crazy week that got him out of the AHL, which was also crazy nights of sex and drugs, but this… him… it was a different kind of high. Better. It will go away, but can he be delusional for a few days? Have fun, be free, do all he actually wanted to do in that damn week in Vegas, without the ending in the hospital. Three weeks of fun, sweat, and hockey is a treat after years of endurance, and that’s how he has to frame it. This is a treat.

He got a phone call, it was him. His heart made that weird thumb again, and his hand reached to calm it down. Ten minutes later, he saw his red Canada Parka walking down the main street from the village. He waved his hand, because he cannot see shit far away without his glasses. He recognized him and jogged over.

“You should be watching the ceremony.” 

“You were right. Too boring.” Dan said, smiling. Garret’s heart thumped again; it was doing that too often tonight. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The houses of the countries had some chairs and tables outside, and staff were rushing to leave everything ready for after-parties. Especially at the Russian house, people were starting to gather, and the Eastern European rave music was already loud. Some people were sitting, while others, like them, were walking around, but it was mostly empty. Dan pointed to a group of red and white flags. Dan hasn’t stopped a lot in the Canada house, because there is always that thought in the back of his head that they cannot be close to players, but the houses were not only for players. They were families, the press, and friends; they had a doctor, massages, and all kinds of accommodations. A group was sitting outside the building. Dan recognized Italy, a couple of Germans, Mexico, and someone from the Netherlands. They were painting their nails in a rainbow, and Dan stopped by. A girl looked at him, from head to toe, and then looked at Garret, smiling. 

“Brother?” 

“Sister?” Garret looked at him, confused. He was 100% sure Dan only had an older brother, way older than him, and didn’t look like a figure skater. 

“Hi! Nice to meet you, I’m Lucia!” 

“Hi, I’m Dan, this is Garret, my friend.” He said with a wink. He went close to Garret’s ear and whispered. “We found the gays!”

The rest of the table introduced themselves quickly, handled mainly by Dan, who excelled at interacting with people. They sat and had a few drinks with the group, while Garret nursed the same beer for some time. The table told them how Canada had brought its own security, its own chefs, its own everything. They made it so safe that it had become a gay haven. As it was getting cold, the group decided to go inside. They sat at a table surrounded by Canadian decorations, low lighting, and soft pop music. By Garret’s side was a short woman with tattoos on her face and a warm smile. 

“Hi! I’m Rengi! This is my no-wife Amelia.” A brunette Australian waved. 

“Hi, not wife Amelia.” 

Rengi giggled and whispered. “We are married in New Zealand, but it is still illegal in Australia. However, the manager of the house in Canada couldn’t care less, and he was very chill about us being here.”

“Yes, we are civilized people,” Dan interjected. 

“It’s because I’m a native?” Rengi said, offended, Dan lost the little color he had in his face, but Garret just laughed, and then Rengi laughed with him. “Oh my god, he almost died there.”

“Assholes,” Dan whispered while going back to his conversation with the figure skater. 

“I like you, Rengi,” Garret said, sipping his beer. 

“It’s always fun to gang on white people.” 

“He is a ginger; we shouldn’t go hard on him.” Dan side-eyed him and took note of the commentary.

They discussed the trip, including Australia and New Zealand. Rengi and Amelia were curious about whether everything they had heard about the states was true. Garret was curious if kangaroos are really around. Some others joined, asking about all the deadly creatures from Australia, and shared the weirdest animals from their countries. It was innocent, fun, and safe. Amelia will twirl Rengi’s hair in between her fingers. A snowboard guy was flirting with a sports nurse guy just there, in front of him, and nobody gave a flying fuck. Rengi grabbed her third beer, and Amelia scolded her.

“I’m no atlete, let me be!”

“Are you just following Amelia?” Garret asked, 

“Yes. My job is very flexible and I’m actually finding a lot of clients here. I’m a tattoo artist.” 

At the bare mention of tattoos, Dan dragged his chair closer to Garret and half-draped over his lap. Garret’s anxiety picked up for a second, raising his arms, but then again, two guys were fucking with their eyes in front of him, Lucia was painting her nails orange and pink while another one did it in purple… 

“You do have an Instagram account? Can I see them? I love tattoos.”

Garret grabbed him from the underarms and hauled him to his lap. Dan was so surprised, he grabbed his back, but the look of happiness he had on his face made Garret’s stomach flutter.

“Gay haven, isn’t it?”

“Oh, sorry, I was surprised you could even pick me up.”  

“Oh, come on. You don’t weigh that much.”

One of the figure skater girls spat her drink. “Not that much? How much do you weigh? A hundred kilos?” 

Garret looked at Dan, confused. “Like, 200lb. No! I’m like… 90kg?” Dan whispered back to Garret. “It’s like 180lbs in bald eagles.” Garret doubted that it was accurate because the ginger could not do simple math, and, grabbing Dan, he rose from his chair. “And by the way, I’m stronger than him. I’m pretty sure I can pick his skinny ass with one hand.” The figure skater looked at Garret, then at Lucia, and whispered to the girls, 

“That’s skinny for him. And I was proud that I could lift her.” He said, pointing at the girl. Garret sat in the chair again, leaving Dan over him.

“Ok, we were talking tattoos,” Rengi said, going back to the topic, clicking her fingers. 

“Yes, look at this.” 

And without shame, Dan took off his shirt to show off the fox on his back. Rengi proceeded to observe the tattoo with the professionalism of a seasoned doctor who has seen it all before. The girl painting her nails purple, dropped her jaw in surprise. The two boys in front of them snapped their necks. 

“Ok, I’m getting self-conscious now.” Said the nurse

“You are very hot, nothing to be jealous of.” Said the snowboarder

“You haven’t seen me without clothes.”

“Yet…” The two men looked at each other, but the nurse broke the conversation and got up. “Ok! Time to leave. You two are just bragging at this point.” 

They walked around the fountain, as close as Rusia would let them. They said and waved to a couple of hockey players who were coming back from the beach. Dan jumped to the edge of the fountain, as if he was a kid. 

“You were cozy there…” 

“Yeah, it was the first time I’ve been with… that kind of people. Well, incorrect. With the nice kind of people.” There was a second of silence. “It was nice. They were fun.”

“When did you find out you liked men too?” Every time Dan asked a personal question, the silence filled the conversation, and the words would get out of his mouth as if they were dragging if they got out.

“Too late.”

Dan had to put the puzzle pieces together. “When did you marry?” 

Garret thought about it. Was that public information? Yes, he has answered that question before. “Nine years ago.” Dan calculated, so… twenty. That’s stupidly young. If they had met earlier... well, Garret married by the time Dan was fifteen, so there was no legal way of meeting him then. If Garret had been single today... that would have been just perfect.  

“Looks like 2005 was a ridiculous year for both of us.” Dan had told him everything. Oversharing was part of his personality. He told him about how his parents left him with his uncle when they found out he couldn't be a donor. They haven't called since they arrived, and only his brother has sent him a couple of texts. The teacher who lied to him, the boyfriend who said "no”. How the death of his uncle made him leave Ottawa and his house there....  

“Well, I don’t think sucking your teacher off was your fault; you were a child. I was an adult, and getting married was totally my fault. Also, you getting wet is totally my fault too.”

“Wha…” Garret pushed him inside the fountain. He managed not to get his ass in the water, but he was wet past his ankles. Icing cold and damp. Garret was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. It was because of that.  

“It’s winter!!” 

“It’s not that cold!” Garret helped him to get out of the fountain, still wheezing. “Come on, I can princess carry you.” A part of Dan kind of wanted it, but he just punched him in the shoulder. Garret took his own shoes off and gave them to him. “Give me yours.”

Dan smiled, took off his shoes and socks, and slipped into Garret’s shoes, while the American walked barefoot. 

Chapter Text

Sochi, 14 February 2014

The vending machine was dispensing the same coin over and over again. That stubborn Ruble won’t go through, and Garret was about to shake the machine and grab a damn cola himself. He took one last look at the Ruble and examined it thoroughly. 

“What is wrong with you? I want a Coke! I’m not asking you to do something complicated.” He screamed at the Ruble. There is no indentation, no problems on the edge, but then he smiled. “Oh, you are a fucked up Ruble. I like you more now.” 

He saved it in his pocket and looked at his watch. If Dan doesn’t leave the staff locker room, he is going to drag him out of his stupid red curls. As if he were summoned, Dan left the room and ran towards the exit door. 

“Come on, Chaton! Let’s go!” 

“I was waiting for you!” Garret said following him, but he caught Dan pretty easily and surpassed him while the Canadian swore.

“This is why I told you to do more cardio, you buff idiot!”

“You have longer legs!!”

“Now I have long legs. Good moment to appreciate them. Move your ass, let’s go.” 

Dan sprinted to catch up with him. 

They arrived at the arena just in time to finish changing. Wes was pacing inside, looking at his watch, fully dressed in stripes, towering over them with his skates on. The two younger threw their bags into the lockers and started grabbing clothes and their skates, dressing up as fast as they could. 

“You two are late!”

“Sorry! Curling got a delay.” Dan excused.

“Stop talking and change! Garret, get the orange, you are going to ref.”

“What happened with Herbert? Is he ok?” Garret looked worried. 

“Herbert fucked up his knee. Fast, boys, 2 minutes! Let’s go to the ice!” Dan clapped angrily.

“My legs are going to give up,” Dan whispered when they went into the corridor. Garret smiled and slapped his ass. 

“Come on, Renard. This is why we came for.”

It was a test of endurance to keep up with the match after a full day of curling, while playing with Garret. They managed not to flirt during the game, except for that moment just a few seconds before the third period finished when Garret passed Dan.

“meow!”

“Did you just meow at me?”

“Stop the flirting.” Wes scolded them, a second before stopping the game.

“Tabarnak, chu brûlé! I’m so done.” Dan left his bags on the floor of the hall and dragged himself to his room. Garret took them and carried them to the correct place. Wes fell onto the sofa.

“What a match, those guys are insane. What is wrong in the Czech Republic? Do they hate Latvia for some reason?” 

The door to the balcony was open, as it was a very hot day, and Herbert was outside, sitting on the green couch that had been moved there with his leg up in a suitcase. It would be better if Herbert didn’t know how that couch had been used. He had fallen on the ice, and his knee didn’t look good; he could probably miss the rest of the week. Garret went to him for some minutes. He had doctor and physical appointments; otherwise, he was content reading his book in the sun. Herbert was very realistic; he wouldn’t panic unless there were a genuine reason to do so, being the one with both feet on the ground. Well, maybe not today. 

Back in their room, Dan was lying in their bed, belly down, t-shirt off, fox up. Garret opened the window, and an almost spring breeze came through. Today was damn warm even for him, and by the happy growl behind him, both of them were. He took off his sweatpants and sat on Dan’s butt, massaging his back.

“Power nap, shower, and then we are out again. Don’t get super comfortable.” 

Dan opened a golden eye, a look of surprise on his face. “Out?”

“Yes, I think we should get out. Find some food, maybe have some fun? It’s so warm, we should make use of it.” 

Dan hugged his pillow, lines shooting from the corner of his eyes. 

“Ok,” he said, sleepy and so damn happy. Today is Valentine’s. 

The sun was setting through the palm trees. Garret was still amused that there were fucking palm trees in a russian beach. Something he learned was that in Sochi, a stone beach is just a regular beach, but many people, especially Europeans, didn’t seem to care that there was no sand. A group of Italians was playing different games among the small, smooth rocks on the beach. A group of girls sat on blankets, with food and drinks scattered everywhere, and music playing. The sunset was beautiful, and the breeze was soft and warm, a perfect spring day. 

“Dan! Garret! We are playing, join us.” One of the girls was waving at them. One of the Italian girls they met in Canada House. Dan waved back.

“Shall we go with Lucia, or do you have a plan?” He asked, Garret grabbed his fucked up Ruble and flipped it in the air. Heads.

“The coin says we should go! Let’s go with them, it’s early, we have time.”

When they reached Lucia, the group of girls got up and were ready to play some games. They had frisbees, volleyball, and a horseshoe game. Lucia went straight there with the other girls and started playing. They threw horseshoes for a while, as did the Olympiads; they would become very competitive about anything that resembled a game. There was shouting, insulting, pushing, and tripping. 

“We got this game from the restaurant right there. Come on, Dan, your turn!” Dan grabbed the horseshoe and threw it to the stake, and it circled several times. 

“Like a fucking streeper.” Garret applauded. “Good job, Renard. You should get a medal.” 

Dan looked at him, expecting something to drop, but Garret just kept playing. After a couple of rounds, Lucia picked all the horseshoes and gave one to Dan.

“You are so good, you should keep it, Dan!”

Dan grabbed the horseshoe just when someone from the restaurant waved at them. Lucia was screaming in Italian at the man, who started to move closer and closer to them, with only a tiny Italian speed skater separating them, both of them angrily gesticulating. 

“I’m not going to steal a horseshoe from a Russian restaurant!”

“Should we steal a horseshoe?” Garret threw the coin into the air and grabbed it back. Heads. “The coin says yes! Run!” He grabbed Dan’s hand and ran away, while the group waved them goodbye. They ran from the beach to the promenade by the coast, running between people and jumping over dogs, until they crossed the Olympic Plaza to the main street of the village. Dan was getting behind and behind, panting out of breath, glasses fogged after the temperature began to drop after sunset.

“I can’t run anymore!”

“Shall we take a seat? Are you hungry?”

Some couples were walking around, while others wore ridiculous heart-shaped hats and took photos for Instagram. Garret was still grabbing his hand, and he was still holding a horseshoe in the other. They stopped by the house of Canada, all decorated with paper hearts and roses. They went to the bar, and a waiter smiled widely at them. They looked at the menu, and the salmon looked so good, but Garret asked for some turkey.

“Gosh, I’m so hungry I think the salmon is not enough, but the turkey… Unsure.”

“Get the turkey, it’s good. Also, I pay. My treat.” 

Dan looked at him, surprised, stopped looking at the menu, and rested his face in a hand. “Wow. Are you trying something with me, North?”

“Maybe. Pick some dessert, it’s ok.” Dan looked again, as if Garret had grown a second head. The waiter took their orders, and they sat and dined with the other people around in the Canada House. 

“Just so we are in the same boat,” Dan said, slowly, “you know that today is Valentine’s.” 

“Is it?” Garret said nonchalantly. “I had no idea. I thought that today was the International Day of Cardiac Arrest.” 

Dan snorted and rolled his eyes, “I always hated Valentine’s. I proposed on Valentine’s and got my ass dumped.”

“I would dare to say you dodged a bullet. You were too young to get married.”

“You know that from experience.” Garret just nodded. “I’m never proposing again.” 

“No way, you have to get married. You cannot be a slut forever.” 

“I think I’m doing a good job as a slut,” Dan said, finishing his chocolate cake.

The waiter smiled at them and got the bill. They hadn’t asked for it, so Dan was thinking ‘Rude’ but let Garret deal with it. He took the bill and opened his eyes in shock.

“I don’t have the money.”

“What?! Oh my god, I cannot believe it, you are going to make me pay for this.” Dan said, laughing, getting his hand to his pocket… and finding nothing at all. “Where is my wallet?” 

“You don’t have your wallet? Oh, no.” Garret said, looking at the waiter. “I’m pretty sure there is something we can do to fix it.” 

“Sure, follow me.” 

Ten minutes later, Garret was dressed in a black apron that the main Chef of the kitchen had given him. He was behind them, watching as Dan threw all the food from the dirty dishes into the garbage while Garret cleaned them. Garret kept talking with the Chef, who was now having his own dinner and was as much of a fan of conversation as Garret himself. He told them stories about other places he worked, and Garret just asked question after question. How much do you get paid? What about the bar? Is it different from the restaurant? The waiter looked at the empty pile of dishes while Garret finished cleaning. 

“Last one!” 

He gave Dan a pristine big serving dish with a silver cover. When he opened the plate cover, a single turkey wishbone was lying in the middle of the dish. Dan left the dishes on the counter and grabbed the bone, looking suspiciously at Garret. 

“I think the debt is paid.” Said the Chef. “Oh, what good luck, a wishbone!”

Dan stood by Garret, offering him one of the little sides. “Shall we ask for a wish?” 

Garret smiled, with way too much love for Dan to handle. “I already have mine. Let’s go. Thanks, Chef!”

“No problem, North! You were actually excellent. If you leave the NHL, give me a call.”

They kept walking around the main road when Dan could hear a scream and loud words spoken in a very aggressive manner. They were in French. A couple of French figure skaters were battling the mascot of Sochi, a clumsy polar bear, which was trying to enter the French building. Meanwhile, two girls pleaded for help and hurled insults at the mascot. 

“Please, someone help us with this monster!” They said in French. 

“Oh, no. Looks like they are in trouble! Go and help with the superpower of French!” Garret said, almost breaking character. 

“You fucking asshole, you are going to pay for this…” Dan said, with a big smile. So he went into character too, and talked back to her as if he were a hero. 

“Don’t worry, madam! I will help you!” He went to the bear and removed the mask. Under it, one of the UK judges of the curling teams.

“I’m trying to tell them they left their bags in the arena!!” The judge gave Dan a bag filled with plushies that people throw onto the ice after their participation. Dan translated, unamused, being very sure that everybody in the scene spoke English. The French couple hugged him, got the bag, and searched for something inside. They found a plushie and gave it to him. 

“As a reward! Thanks for the help!” Dan grabbed the plushie and showed it to Garret. 

“A Miraculous Ladybug plushie? Are you serious?”

“I know nothing. I had no idea, isn’t it true?” He said, flipping the coin again. Dan was about to catch the coin, but Garret went faster and pushed him away, and when he got it… heads. 

“Thank you, two. Hey, are you Irish by any chance?” The guy in the bear costume said.

“Maybe some ancestor down the line, but not that I know.” 

“Come with me! I will invite you to a beer.” 

Garret walked immediately by the Bear, Dan stopped for a second, looked at the couple of figure skaters, and asked them in French. 

“Did he make you do this?” 

“Go, don’t be late!”

“To what?” 

The man in the bear costume took them to one of the bars in the village, which resembled a British pub, complete with booths and sofas. There were a bunch of people around, eating, resting, and some couples in the corners. The other judge took the bear costume off and walked with them to a booth where three ginger men were already sitting, snacking on some chips and beers. The three of them looked their way, and one of them screamed.

“Cousin!” Dan was exhausted; they hadn’t stopped for a second, and now he had his hands full of little presents and somehow… This has been a fantastic day so far. They chatted for a while with the curling judge and the three gingers, who happened to be track ski. Garret, for once, didn’t speak a lot. He hasn’t said a peep most of the time. He was looking at him with a smug smile and starry eyes.

“So you are clearly one of us!” One of the gingers bellowed.

“Am I?”

“There is only one way to know. Bring the pint!”

“The pint!” They chanted. 

“If you manage to drink a full pint of Guinness, we will proceed to name you Irish Canadian cousin!” 

Someone got pints of Guinness to the booth, and all the gingers grabbed one. They left one for Dan. He held it. That was not a white claw. He took a deep breath and proceeded to drink the whole pint; the gingers were cheering and clapping his back when he managed to drink the entire thing in one chug. 

“This is actually… not bad.”

“Hurrah! Here you have, I hereby name you, Daniel Cameron, Irish Canadian.” One of the gingers said, putting a pin in his sweater. It was a four-leaf clover pin.

“Oh, fuck off…” Dan said, looking at Garret, that he couldn’t stop this time and giggled. “Are you even Irish?” 

“I am,” One of them said, “these are just ginger cunts”, and the others joined in, chuckling.

Garret got comfortable, dared to lay his head on Dan’s shoulder, proud of himself, hugging the plush toy. The rest of his new friends left them alone, and Dan looked at the bunch of things he had gathered during the day. He picked the first one.

“So… A horseshoe?” 

“Yeah, the horseshoe you stole from a Russian restaurant at an Italian beach party. That was wild; we had to run so fast across the village. Stupid.” 

Dan nodded, twirling the horseshoe between the table and his fingers. “And a wishbone.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. How did we manage to get dinner without having the money to pay for it? And then we had to clean the dishes for food? I thought that was the kind of thing that happens in the films, not in real life. By the way, I found your wallet on the floor.” He said, giving him his wallet back. 

Dan snatched the wallet from his hands, “Then we got a ladybug.” 

“Those dumb French people and their inability to speak English, or maybe it was because the dude was from the UK. Maybe it’s because they hate each other. Anyway, it was such good luck you were there to save the day. They get way too many plushies. People should throw something more useful, like thongs.”

 “Yes… Such good luck.” He touched the little pin with the four-leaf clover. “And then we found an Irish and two cunts.” 

“The first time you drank a Guinness.” 

“I kind of liked it.” 

“See, the first time you drank a Guinness and you liked it, and you got adopted by an Irish and two cunts. That’s one more cunt than normal, you should appreciate it.” Dan snorted a laugh.

The way back home was more relaxed, with them walking side by side, still in silence, but a comfortable one. Dan was juggling the ladybug plushie, the tiny turkey wishbone, a stupid heavy horseshoe, and a clover pin…

“You really did all of this?” 

“I did nothing. I was walking around. Was I walking around, coin?” He flipped again. Heads. “See? I’m an innocent bystander. Innocent like a baby.” Garret took the horseshoe from Dan’s hands and hooked it to his belt. He didn’t want Dan to lose any presents, and it was getting on his nerves seeing him walking in the street juggling everything. He should have foreseen a simple bag. 

“Can I ask questions to the coin? I’m not sure if I trust the coin. I guess that you are somehow cheating.”

“Repeat that, but slower.”  

Dan processed what he just said and snorted. “Not that way!! I think your coin is cheating. I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

Garret gasped in disbelief. “Don’t insult the wise coin. The coin knows everything.”

Dan said goodbye to the people in Canada as they were on their way back, waving his hand to the girls. “Well, I would like to test how wise it is. You throw the coin, and I will ask the question then. It has to be a tough question, something that would confirm to me that the coin knows the truth.”

“The coin will answer your question. Should I throw it?” They stopped for a second close to their apartment building, and Garret threw the coin as high as he could. 

“Are you in love with me?” Garret’s eyes panicked, and he missed the coin. It fell on the pavement, danced around for a second, and stopped. Dan kneeled. It was a thousand times in a row, heads. He picked it up from the floor and looked around. “Two heads? I knew you were cheating.” 

“I mean… It’s partially your fault.” 

“What is my fault? Falling in love?” Dan thought, but said instead. “Thanks for the presents.”

“I’m not giving you presents like you were my affair or something. They did. Not me.” Garret said, pointing to the main street.

They were halfway through their stay, and Dan walked by his side, glancing at him. Garret couldn’t get him a present for Valentine’s, so he made that problem the entire main street’s problem. When did they cross the line? He has definitely crossed the line. Wes is going to be disappointed in him.

“Let’s go home before we need to call the embassy for public disturbance.” 

It wasn’t that late when they got back home; the others were still awake in different parts of the house. Wes and Pierre were discussing the latest news from home. Herbert was reading in his room, his leg stretched out. Dan called out to Pierre in French the second he stepped in, leaving his shoes in the entrance. Garret picked them up and set them aside. The French-Canadians spoke at a rapid pace, on what Garret understood was a brief account of what had just happened. He was a bit mortified, so he went to the kitchen to take something to drink and sat at the breakfast bar countertop. Dan stopped talking with Pierre and went in his direction. He grabbed the countertop in wait for Dan, pulling him out, but instead he grabbed all his presents with one hand and his face with the other, and kissed him. The two referees on the sofa looked at each other. Of course, everybody knew what was happening in their room, and they were in each other’s personal space all the time, but they never did things like hold hands in front of each other, and they absolutely did not kiss. 

“I’m going to the shower and bed, my legs are going to give up at any moment.” 

Dan left the room, and the living room felt very still. Pierre was looking at Garret with, maybe not anger, but irritation. He moved as if he was going to get up and say something, and Garret jumped from the countertop, ready to get screamed at, but a hand pushed Pierre back to the sofa, Wes’s hand. 

“Let them be.” 

“Dan is my boy, I think I’m entitled to be a bit worried.” 

“And this one is mine. Garret, go.”

Wes said, and he obliged. He felt like a coward, but the respect that he had for an angry Pierre was in par with the respect he had for an upset Wes. And listening to him say Garret was “his boy” made something in him, so he obeyed. On the way to his room, he thought he had taken Wes for granted. He was a good friend. And if the two giants wanted to discuss in private, he was not going to stay in their way.