cross checked :: lrh

1.

"MICHAEL, if you use our sink to dye your hair that bright fucking red again just to end up making me clean it, i'll slice off your cock with your own skate!"

cackles filled luke's ears as michael strode into the connected bathroom, presumably just to take a piss, but luke could never tell when mike's roots needed retouching.

muttering curses in swedish, he continued to pull things out of his suitcase.

stopping for a minute to organize his electronics on one of the two desks they managed to squeeze into the dorm room, he fed wires through where they needed to go, plugging in his dead laptop. it's a long flight from australia to the usa, luke taking some much needed time catching up on shows in the cramped seats of the airplane. those of which were clearly not built for someone of his and his friends' statures.

"remind me that we need to buy new cellular plans tomorrow, luke," said michael, now clothed in pajamas. so that's what he was doing.

"what, you mean we can't today?"

"we literally just flew in from back home, i- how the fuck are you unpacking right now? i'm dead-" michael yawned and stretched," i'm dead on my feet, man."

luke stared at michael, who just shook his head and hooked his thumb back towards the bed furthest from the window, then started to crawl under a blanket.

"this one's mine because fuck you."

luke rolled his eyes and proceeded to fully unpack. here they are: pajamas, t-shirts, his lucky pair of socks...

he swears it was the socks, that first championship win. it came down to the end of the 3rd period, tied with the opposite team when he dove for the pass from ashton, just managing to shoot it past the skate of the goalie. luke had felt like he was flying on top of the eruption the crowd made.

the socks have turned into a keepsake by now, a reminder of just how far he's come. it certainly is shown through the faded threadbare black of the wool. and just as he believed back then, the NHL is on the horizon.

of course, after he finishes three more years of american college.

luke glanced at michael, already fast asleep, before slipping quietly into the bathroom to brush his teeth. the mirror bore his face back at him, dark under eye circles, stubble, and all.

this year, the boys had to pay in full to be able to continue their journey with the terriers. more than one year scholarships for ice hockey were unheard of, and luke and the boys had been prepared to take on student loans and debt if only to continue playing on american soil. they all loved it, so here they were.

checking the time once more before getting into bed felt like a dream, head weighing heavy from exhaustion and jet lag. jabbing at his phone in a last ditch attempt to set an alarm for tomorrow, sleep overcame.

-

luke woke up to the alarm he set the night before. hotel room by pitbull. mr worldwide knows how to start the day off strong.

"turn that thing off, cunt, we don't have practice until tomorrow and i don't plan on getting up until at least noon," came a groggy michael from the other side of the room.

"i'm not buying breakfast for you today then, rövhål. not my problem you never wake up at a reasonable time," responded luke, similarly not eager to wake up, but conquering the jet lag's gotta start somewhere.

and somewhere starts with getting coffee from their favorite café round the corner from campus.

ashton was already there when luke walked through the front door and up to the counter, and waved from the booth he was sitting in. after ordering a latte, luke walked over to wait with ash.

"good morning, captain," said luke, acknowledging the fact that the coach had chosen ashton as such after last season ended.

ashton smiled and shook his head, "look, the title's cool, and i get to hear interesting shit from the coach before the rest of the players. i heard they're trying out some new program this year-"

the barista called out what sounded like luke's name. he held up his finger to ashton with a small smile and walked back to the counter. he muttered a quick thanks as he picked up the paper to-go cup. how the barista seemed to read their own handwriting, luke could not tell. he just hoped this was actually his drink and not someone else in need of caffeine. making his way back over to ashton, he took a small sip. burning his tongue in the process, he deduced that yes it's a latte, and it's sweetened just how he liked it.

"so what was the program?" he asked as he slid into the other side of the booth. ashton shoved the last bit of muffin he had into his mouth before acknowledging luke.

"they're bringing in an underclassman sports management major in to help with operations for the team, thought you might be interested in knowing."

"why would i need to know? it's not like i care what staff's doing for this year unless it's about the schedule."

"her name's finley sybil, i suggest you do some of your own sleuthing on social media. she's one hot pieces of ass, man."

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translations

rövhål - asshole