by Hex
"Nice of you to show up man," Duo teased as Quatre skated onto the ice. The blonde man shot a glare at the team captain. Quatre was fully aware that he was ten minutes late for warm up. He was just waiting for Duo to say something. Quatre was still struggling to tighten his shin pads so he couldn't glare at Duo long. Quatre had one skate on the ice and the other was still on the black padding that ran from the dressing room to the gate of the skating rink. Duo glided over to him, a wicked grin in place.
"So, Quatre my man," Duo began throwing an arm over Quatre's shoulders and letting his eyebrows jump to his hairline. "How was your night? I have a phone number and my tonsils are cleaner than they have been in months."
Quatre quickly pulled his mask down over his face but not before Duo caught sight of its flame red state. As Quatre skated off he could hear Duo laughing. He was pretty sure Duo almost fell down, because there was an unmistakable clunking against the boards. Quatre mentally growled and began doing sprints across the ice like everyone else. Quatre knew he was sweating from embarrassment rather than exertion, but he had to keep skating and staying on top of their warm up while trying to avoid having a conversation with Duo.
It wasn't that he was embarrassed about what had happened the night before. He had absolutely no shame in telling Duo he had a fantastic, bedspring creaking and headboard banging night. It was the morning after that he dreaded telling Duo about. God, he was such an idiot.
When he had woken up and realised that warm up started in fifteen minutes, he had scrambled around his apartment to get ready to leave and forced Trowa to do the same. He had left Trowa at the curb waiting for a taxi while he drove away like the prime example of a moving violation. Quatre had realized when he arrived at the arena that he had never asked for Trowa's phone number. In the midst of all the chaos he had forgotten to get it. The total joy crippling fact made him want to throw off his mask and bang his forehead repeatedly on the cross bar before having a full out temper tantrum in the crease.
Quatre blinked in surprise. How in the hell had that made it past him? Quatre stared incredulously at the puck in the net. What the hell was wrong with his stick? What in the hell was wrong with his hands? What in the hell was wrong with him?
"Fuck!" Quatre hissed and ground his teeth. "That shot was fucking pathetic. What in the hell are you doing Winner?"
Quatre wasn't even capable of answering himself. The shriek of the whistle told him to pay attention. Duo won the face off and dashed towards the Wheat King's end zone. He and the rest of the offence danced around with it, passing the puck from the point to the sides several times before shooting. The Wheat King's goalie deflected the hard slap shot easily and Quatre felt a small pang. That was the way he usually played. The deflection went wide and slid along the boards. Quatre eyed the puck wearily as it slid into the neutral zone and was picked up by a Wheat King's player.
That floater earlier had shaken him up and not in the good way. His stick felt heavy and his glove hand was twitchy. Sweat was rolling off of his forehead and into his eyes. He felt boxed in by his mask and the ice was blurring just slightly. Quatre wanted nothing more than to rip off his helmet and mask and breath the free air again. Quatre took a deep breath and brought his stick around just in time to stop the puck. It deflected off his stick and bounced to plink off someone's skate. Blades flailed everywhere and the puck slid erratically as players scrambled to take control of it. Duo got control of it and sent it whizzing towards the neutral zone. A Wheat King's winger snagged it before it crossed the blue line.
The puck zigzagged all over their end zone. Quatre's eyes followed the small black piece of rubber wildly. Barely blinking to make sure he didn't miss it. He knew where the Wheat King's wanted it to be, skimming over the ice, at him. He tried to shift without loosing sight of the puck. A single bead of sweat was slowly working its way down his neck and it made him itch with his unease.
And the rush was on; one Wheat Kings player was rushing towards him. Sally threw herself after him and the puck from the line change. With the confusion from the line change it was three Wheat Kings players charging the net with only Sally and Otto to stand between Quatre and the players charging his net. One of the players snapped the puck towards the net. Quatre caught it with the edge of his stick. It was deflected but a Wheat Kings player caught and sent it sailing back towards Quatre again. Quatre covered it and stood quickly with it clutched in his glove hand.
A Wheat Kings [1], number 7 didn't stop in time and skated into Quatre, pushing him back into the net. Quatre snarled low in his throat and bodily shoved the winger out of his crease. Number 7 shoved back viciously and it wasn't long before they were both pushing at each other and grabbing each other's jerseys. The ref was blowing on his whistle at this point, trying to step between them. The noise drowned out most of whatever trash talk the Wheat Kings player was spewing but Quatre still caught enough snatches of it to want to smear the guy's face across the boards.
"Hey! Whoa!" Duo barked at him, grabbing him from behind as a player from the Wheat Kings did the same to Number 7, who's name turned out to be Tkachuk [2]. "Calm down man. Finish the game."
Quatre skated away from Duo, shooting the Wheat Kings player a nasty look. He grabbed his gloves up from off the ice and shoved his hands back in them. He picked up his stick and waited for the ref to call for a face off. It was going to be a long game.
The game was over. Quatre eyed the scoreboard wearily. It could have been worse, but it should have been much better.
"Man, what was wrong with you today?" Duo demanded pulling off his helmet as they walked to the change room. "You let two soft floaters right in and then you were all up in Tkachuk's face. What the hell is going on?"The game was over.
"Not now and sure as shit, not here." Quatre snarled. He pulled his mask and helmet off, tucking it under his arm. His performance on the ice was lacklustre at best. It was a good thing he had good defence and the offence had capitalised on some good opportunities or they might have lost the game because Quatre just couldn't focus. Quatre unceremoniously dropped his things on the change room bench. Quatre couldn't help but be angry with himself and he wasn't quite ready to tell Duo he was a moron and a pathetic one at that. He let the fact that he was mooning over not having Trowa's phone number almost cost them the game. He had really screwed the pooch twice in the same day. This sorry excuse for a day in the life was a horrible chaser for his amazing day yesterday.
Quatre made a face as he pulled off his jersey. He slowly pried himself out of his padding and then plopped down to pull of his skates. He tossed all of his equipment into his hockey bag and slipped the blade guards onto his skates. He wasn't wearing anything more than a tank top, and long johns. He had stripped out of his socks and was wiggling his toes one cement floor. Most of the team had filtered out, Otto and Adam had both asked him if he was all right. Quatre just nodded then waved them off. Zach nudged him as he went by saying it was nice to see him finally have a bad game after playing together for the past three years.
Finally the locker room was empty. Duo had changed and quickly showered in the time Quatre had pulled himself from his equipment, still sulking from his piss poor game. Duo was hovering by the exit, staring a hole into Quatre and waiting.
"I had a really good night last night," Quatre offered.
"So then why are you Mr. Unfocused Hostility today?" Duo demanded.
"Because I'm a moron! A first rate, dumb ass! I should have idiot tattooed across my forehead in big block letters, with an exclamation point. It should probably be underlined too." Quatre gestured dramatically with his hands. He leaned backwards until his shoulders hit the lockers and he kept himself from falling to the floor by keeping his legs curled underneath the bench. The position left his butt hanging in the air. It wasn't really comfortable, but Quatre was annoyed, and liked sitting in strange positions when he was upset.
"What did you do now?" Duo asked, throwing his hands to his sides.
"I slept in this morning..." Quatre muttered. Duo rolled his eyes and gave him an exasperated, 'if you don't get to the point now, I'll kill you' look. "Well I was in such a rush this morning I ..."
"What? I didn't hear that." Duo said moving closer to Quatre.
"I forgot to get his phone number." Quatre cast his glance to somewhere other than Duo. When said out loud it sounded so lovesick. Quatre grimaced. He sounded like a thirteen year old with a crush.
"That is what's had you in a snit all damn day? His phone number?" Duo demanded.
"I know it's stupid. It's down right moronic." Quatre beat his head repeatedly against the lockers.
"What? He was such a good bed buddy he addled your brain?" Duo asked. He was leaning casually against the lockers now, clearly amused. "All you have to do is ask Sally for his number. I'm sure she can get it for you."
"God, like I don't feel enough like a kid with their first crush." Quatre said. He let his voice take on a nasal quality and raised it an octave. "Sally, can you get his phone number for me? Please? Ooooo and tell him I like him too. He's so hawt!"
"Well don't then." Duo gave him a pointed look.
"I want him." Quatre said flatly. Quatre returned the pointed look and folded his arms over his chest.
"I think that falls under the no shit category." Duo joked.
"No, I mean like unreasonably want him. I mean like insatiably want him. As in if we hadn't had to make up last week's game today I would found any damn excuse to keep him in my bed or worst-case scenario, within my apartment. I want to keep him." Quatre said. " And if you even think about starting to hum Addicted to Love I will force feed you your skates."
"Too late." Duo grinned. He sobered after a moment. "Hey man, just be careful, take it slow. You always fall so hard, so fast. It makes me paranoid."
"I don't know why you tell me that every time. I never listen." Quatre teased.
"Well, a man's gotta live on the faith that one day his best friend will learn a new trick." Duo said with a shrug, "But they told me you can't teach an old dog new tricks so I took up trying to make you less of a moron instead."
"Asshole." Quatre snapped and threw himself at Duo. The pair tangled for a bit Quatre finally ending up with Duo's braid wrapped around his arm forcing the brunette into a stoop while he punched lightly at Quatre's stomach.
"Are you boys bonding over man stench again?" Sally asked from the doorway.
"Hey, what are you doing in the men's change room?" Duo demanded.
"Pervert!" Quatre squealed in his best falsetto, unwinding himself from Duo's hair before making a show of covering himself.
"Oh, like I haven't seen that before." Sally rolled her eyes.
"Was I awake for that?" Quatre asked, gesturing vaguely in Sally's direction. He gave Duo a questioning look.
"Yep. The hole in the wall gives me a good view." Sally said, waving a dismissive hand.
"Huh?" Duo and Quatre both chorused, snapping their wide eyes to Sally.
"Morons." Sally muttered under her breath. "Duo, I'm your ride home. Let's go. I'm supposed to be going to my parents place."
"Hey, sorry man." Duo said, genuinely contrite.
"Hey Sal, er... when are you going to be home? I kind of have a favour I need to ask of you." Quatre mumbled, the feeling of stupidity that had haunted him all day nearly clouding his vision.
"After ten, give me a call then. I need to get going." Sally said and waved a hand out the doorway.
"Make sure you call her." Duo said and wagged a finger at him before running down the hall, struggling with the over stuffed hockey bag on his shoulder.
Quatre sighed and plunked himself down on the bench. What was he going to say to Trowa anyway?
"Hi! I practically tossed you out on your ear this morning but I had a really good time last night. Wanna go for round two?" Quatre shook his head and began throwing his equipment in his hockey bag. He would shower at home.
Showers made life worth living, Quatre decided. They were hot, wet and made him feel completely relaxed. He had already washed away the sweat from the game, now he was just standing under the pouring, hot water for the sheer joy of it. And there was nothing more annoying than being pulled out of the shower before you wanted to leave. Quatre poked his head out of the shower curtain and listened. Someone was definitely knocking on his door. Quatre growled a few curses while he turned off the water and scrambled to wrap a towel around his waist.
Quatre flung the door open and gawked. Trowa stood in the doorway, a white plastic bag clutched in his hand. He was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and black sweater underneath his winter jacket. He looked even better than yesterday, and Quatre wasn't even sure if that was possible. Quatre suddenly felt awkward for staring and awkward because he was being stared at.
"I brought Chinese." Trowa said, looking somewhere over Quatre's shoulder.
"I forgot to get your phone number this morning." Quatre blurted out. It was a stupid reaction but Quatre couldn't seem to help himself.
"Yeah." Trowa mumbled and gave a crooked smile. "But I knew where to find you."
"Um, come in?" Quatre faced scrunched up, clearly demonstrating his uncertainty. He moved so Trowa could walk into the room.
"Should I put the food on the kitchen table?" Trowa asked, stepping into the apartment.
"No, the kitchen table isn't very sturdy. The coffee table in front of the TV is safer." Quatre replied and gestured vaguely in the direction of the couch and TV.
Trowa took to steps into the room before turning to look at Quatre. He looked hesitant. Quatre started when he though about how much guts it had taken for Trowa to just show up on his doorstep after the way Quatre had herded him out of the house in the morning. He was glad things hadn't happened the other way around. Quatre was fairly certain, in Trowa's position, he would have thought Trowa wanted nothing to do with him.
"We're doing this all out of order aren't we?" Quatre said, shifting his weight and looking off to the side. Sex and then a date, it was no wonder things felt intimate and awkward at the same time.
"Yeah. But it could be worse." Trowa mumbled.
"We could not be doing it at all?" Quatre guessed or prayed he was right.
Trowa gave him a crooked smile and brushed the tangled wet bangs from Quatre's eyes. The stood there for a few minutes, giving each other rather silly smiles before they realised they were standing in the middle of the room, Trowa with food in his hand and Quatre with a towel around his waist. The moment was broken when they both laughed and the air in the room seemed to relax.
"I'm going to go get dressed. I'll meet you at the couch in a few minutes?" Quatre asked. Trowa smiled and nodded. "There are bowls and chopsticks in the cupboard."
Quatre scrambled to get dressed with the same urgency he had experienced that morning. He put made the quick decision to wear a plain white golf shirt and black jeans. He wanted to look good, but casual. He mercilessly dragged a comb through his tangled hair and practically threw himself out of his bedroom. It was still a little awkward at the moment, but Quatre was determined that it wouldn't stay that way. He would get Trowa's number today and make sure that Trowa had his. If all went well, Quatre would have company tonight and another date really soon.
Quatre walked into the room, trying to keep the energy rolling through him to a bearable level. Trowa had already found his way around Quatre's kitchen, having pulled out the bowls, chopsticks and glasses of water. It seemed strangely intimate and comfortable, despite the fact that their 'relationship' was neither, yet. Quatre settled down on the couch next to Trowa and took the bowl that was handed to him. Quatre nodded in silent approval of the food Trowa had brought before digging in. They sat in silence, eating.
"I wonder what's on TV right now," Quatre muttered and picked up the remote.
"Myth Busters,[3] channel 16." Trowa replied without hesitation.
Quatre changed the channel and watched Trowa out of the corner of his eye. Green eyes were glued to the TV screen and Trowa was absently shovelling noodles into his mouth with chopsticks. It was quiet, but it was comfortable, Quatre decided. The awkwardness had passed quickly, just like last night. Trowa was definitely his type. Soft spoken, witty, smooth when it counted, with nerdy taste in TV programs. The brunette shifted on the couch so their thighs rubbed every time one of them moved. Quatre grinned around the chopsticks and sweet and sour pork in his mouth.
They both nearly jumped out of their seats when the phone rang. The sound was shrill compared to the low mumbling from the Myth Busters currently trying to make a dummy pee on a railway track [4]. Quatre jumped up and grabbed the cordless off the wall.
"Hello?" Quatre answered, a little breathlessly.
"Hi Quatre!" Sally's voice chirped from the phone.
"Hi Sally." Quatre said, slightly confused.
"I'm spending the night with my parents. I decided to call you since you wanted to talk to me." Sally said.
"Uh?" Quatre blinked for a moment. "Oh, never mind, it wasn't that important."
"Oh, come on. You and Duo were having one of your 'locker room' discussion meetings and you were cursing like a sailor the entire game. Something is up and you want to talk to me about it." Sally stated. Quatre could imagine her smug expression over the phone. Sally read him like a book.
"It's really nothing Sally, you don't have to worry about it." Quatre assured her.
"Quatre, you tell me now or I'll keep calling back." Sally threatened. Quatre heaved a sigh. She would do it too. He knew that. He could have tried to tell her without having Trowa overhear or tiptoe around the subject, but there was no point.
"I wanted to get you to track down Trowa's number for me." Quatre said. He caught Trowa glance over at him at the sound of his name. Quatre wasn't sure if Trowa had actually been eavesdropping. A part of him hoped he had.
"Oh! So you did like him. I though he was just your type..." Sally trailed off.
"You weren't plotting a set up when you made them come to the pub after the game. Please tell me you weren't plotting a set up," Quatre whined. "I hate that crap."
"Which is why I didn't tell you. You wouldn't have liked him, even though he's a good guy, just to spite me." Sally retorted.
"That's true." Quatre muttered through pursed lips.
"But, that's besides the point. You want his number, I'll get it for you. I'll phone Wufei and than call you back." Sally said.
"No, no, it's fine. He's here right now." Quatre said. He mentally winced. Sally was going to demand details and then he would be tormented. She would probably start calling him "Team Slut" again. Quatre sighed and caught Trowa staring at him while eating. Trowa was giving him a rather intense look while eating thick noodles. It was a distracting thing to watch a sexy man's lips and jaw work like that. Quatre felt his face get warm.
"Sal, I'll talk to you later." Quatre hung up before he even heard Sally's response.
Quatre dropped himself back down onto the couch.
"Sorry about that," Quatre said. He beamed at Trowa and watched as the brunette set aside his bowl and chopsticks on the coffee table. Trowa slid his hand along the back of the couch and then up Quatre's arm, to the back of the blonde's neck. Trowa shifted to move closer then stalled, eyeing the Chinese food.
"I guess you've been eating it too." Trowa leaned in and kissed Quatre. Quatre pressed Trowa back into the couch and straddled him. The kisses were mostly close-lipped, but they nuzzled each other's necks and faces.
They spent most of the evening like that. Curled together on the couch, positions shifting as they ran their hands over each other and kissed. Neither one ventured too far. All clothing stayed in place and nothing became too intense.
The mood was broken when Trowa lifted himself up from where he was resting his head on Quatre's chest. Quatre watched him leave the living room and head to the bathroom. Quatre stayed where he was, sprawled on the couch with his legs spread. He felt like he was melting, he was so relaxed. His eyelids were heavy and thought he might just fall asleep from being so darn comfortable. Quatre closed his eyes and smiled.
Quatre heard Trowa moving around by the couch and then he felt lips press against his. Quatre's eyes snapped open when Trowa grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him up into a sitting position. Trowa hauled Quatre off of the couch by his shirt. They kissed through the entire walk, shuffling, bumping into things and each other the entire time. It was awkward manoeuvring, but they made it to the door. They twined their tongues together for a few minutes before Trowa broke away.
"I have to go get some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow." With that Trowa pushed a small paper into Quatre's hand and let himself out of the apartment.
Quatre grinned stupidly for a few minutes before uncurling the piece of paper Trowa had shoved into his hand. In a rough capital letters were Trowa's name and a set of digits. Quatre ran his eyes over the numbers a few times before gleefully tacking the paper to his bulletin board.
'Score!'
[1] Because the Brandon Wheat Kings do rock ^_________^ http://www.wheatkings.com/ *whispers* they just need a goalie like Quatre to be invincible *smirks*
[2] Keith Tkachuk – 7 Left Wing height: 6' 2" Weight: 231 Shoots: Left Plays for the St. Louis Blues. I hate him. I almost made Quatre beat the crap out of him but I resisted. It was really tempting though *hates*
[3] Simply because I am addicted to this show for the moment.
[4] Good episode, it entertained me.
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