Playoff Shenanigans

"Ref, you suck."

    『Reader's POV』

  Your muscles tensed, your chest tightened, and the blood in your knuckles drained as you clenched your fists; the culprit? Sudden death overtime. No, it wasn't the seventh game of the Stanley Cup playoffs; it wasn't even the seventh game of the first round, but your team had the chance to move onto the next round tonight. As the players you had grown so familiar with gathered at center ice, you, just as everyone else in the arena, stood with a rally towel clenched between shaking hands. As the referee dropped the puck, the face off ensued. Bless the coach and his common sense for putting your best man out there. Your team won the puck over in a swift shift of the stick. Now, your best forward entered the zone, no whistle, no men in his way. Now it was just him and the goalie. A skilled deke sent the entire arena into an instant celebration, but what you heard wasn't a goal horn, no, it was a whistle. Now you could see the fragments of a snapped twig on the ice.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself, "now what?"
Your question was quickly answered. A penalty for playing with a broken stick.

How? Overtime had just started!

As the play was recapped on the screen in the middle of the arena, the broken twig received an explanation: a slash from one of the opposing team's defensemen. Were you seeing this correctly?

A slash, and we're receiving a penalty? These officials might as well get on their knees in front of the opposing team's bench!

Now your team was on the penalty kill with a face off on their side of the ice. A loud chant of, "Ref you suck," was prominent in the large arena. Your rally towel along with several more waved in the air in hope that your team could kill this penalty, but in the few remaining seconds of the opposing team's power play, the goal horn sounded.

They scored...

  Just as you slumped yourself into your seat in defeat, your best friend shot up into celebration beside you.

Yeah, that's right, my goddamn best friend supports that lot of shit, but his looks and personality make up for it all.

Matthew Williams. He always sported his blond hair at a length that left it hovering over his shoulder, an untamable curl bouncing with unbelievable liveliness. He had a pair of amiable, violaceous orbs and a smile that matched. A smile from him could easily melt the cold void that was you heart. All of this and his adorable, shy Canadian nature were the only things keeping you from strangling him with his own hockey sweater.

Damn he's adorable, but that sweater makes me want to vomit.

You simply rolled your eyes and let out a deep sigh, "A win all because of a bullshit call," you huffed under your breath. Once you got up and gathered your things you could feel a pair of eyes on you.

Oh no... Did he hear me? Is he going to be sad? Why do I have to be such a sore loser?

Once you caught a glimpse of his face, your (e/c) eyes met violet ones and a smile spread across Matthew's rosy cheeks.

Seems he didn't hear a thing. Yes!

As he spoke, you had to strain your ears in order to hear him, "That was a pretty bad call the ref made, eh?" You sighed softly and nodded in agreement.

Okay, so he may like a bad team, but he isn't blind to bullshit.

"It was a dirty play on our player's part," he admitted and you frowned.

"I don't disagree," you declared as you looked up at the taller male, "your team likes to play dirty and the zebras just seem to encourage it."

Matthew blushed and rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner. "Guess so. But at least we can come to at least one more game before one of our team's season is over."

You agreed with a nod, "I'm glad we can go to games together, Mattie. It's fun, even if you do have a bad taste in teams." You teased as you gently pressed your finger against the tip of his nose.

*~•Time skip brought to you by an exasperated Kuma waiting for you two to return to feed him•~*

『Matthew's POV』

You made sure to keep (y/n) close by on the way out, your arm gently wrapping around their waist to keep any intoxicated men and women from getting too close. As you finally reached the outside of the busy arena, suddenly everything fell into silence, only the soft honking of post game traffic sounding in the background. You were thrilled to find someone who was as passionate about hockey as you were, even if they were rooting against your team. You loved the passion burning in the (e/c) orbs that had drawn you into this situation. You were drawn to the impassioned soul of a fellow hockey enthusiast. So into a spiral of intensity and human nature you fell, placing your delicate lips on your best friend's. Just as a mitten clad hand was about to rest on their cheek, realization hit you like a train.

Did you really just kiss (y/n)!? They're only a friend! . . . Right?

You quickly pulled away, your violet eyes falling to the ground as you murmured several apologies. How could your Canadian nature allow you to do something so bold and vulgar? Just as you were about to avoid the situation a hand gripped at your brightly colored sweater, keeping you still.

『Reader's POV』

My really cute best friend just kissed me and he plans on apologizing and pretending it didn't happen, just like that?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Not happening.

Your grip locks onto the horrendous sweater before you grab the laces and tug him forward, crashing your lips onto his. The kiss was soft and sweet, and sooner than expected, you both had to break away for air. Both of your faces were a dull shade of red, and before the Canadian tried to say anything else, you interrupted.

"You can have more when you need to be comforted over your team's loss, Williams~." You stated confidently before placing a kiss on his cheek and turning to walk toward the car, not noticing his red cheeks and brilliant smile.

Your team may not have scored this game, but you sure did.