A/N: Hey there! This is my first multi-chapter in a really long time, and I really love this plot idea. I actually got while I was watching a Sabres game and decided to run with it! Buffalo is my hometown, I live here and I'm an avid hockey fan so nearly everything in this fic should be pretty accurate. Of course, it's generally an AU. You're not going to find any spoilers here. My math might be a little off when it comes to the years, so if you spot an error in my calculations, don't hesitate to point them out! So I hope you all enjoy this, and I'd love it if you reviewed to let me know what you think!
Blaine Anderson didn't know much about anything.
But he knew everything about hockey.
He could tell you all of the goalies that have won Vezina trophies in the past 10 years. He can tell you their stats and the team they played for when they won.
He can tell you how many NHL goalies have made it to the Olympics and won the gold medal for their country.
He could tell you all of the retired numbers for his favorite teams.
Hockey was Blaine Anderson's life.
Literally. Blaine Anderson was a professional hockey player. He was a goaltender for the Buffalo Sabres. They weren't his first choice of teams. When he learned that there were teams interested in drafting him before he was out of college, he'd been holding out for Columbus. He'd followed them since he was a kid, being from Ohio, and they'd been his dream team. But he'd known not to get his hopes up, so he was barely even disappointed when he was drafted 4th round by the Buffalo Sabres.
Blaine hadn't followed the team too closely. He knew that they had been one of the 5 teams to have never won a Stanley Cup as of the 2013-14 NHL season, the year he was drafted. He knew they'd had some good players, and a few really great goaltenders but no notable post-season success.
Blaine was determined to change that.
He started out playing for the Sabres' farm team, The Rochester Americans. He'd been back-up for their back-up till both of them were hurt and Blaine was finally able to play an AHL game. He won that game 6-2.
He was their goaltender for 10 games, and he won 9 of them.
The next season, he was their starter.
The following, he was called up. He played back up for the aging Jhonas Enroth, who was the Sabres star starter after Ryan Miller's fall in the 2011-12 season. However, Enroth was getting old. Blaine got to play about half the games in his first NHL season.
The following year, he made his debut as a starter gainst the Anaheim Ducks. He won the game, 4-3.
It didn't take long for the entirety of Buffalo, New York to fall in love with him. He had charm and he was incredibly, incredibly handsome. Plus he was talented, really fucking talented. He led them to a first round post-season victory. However, they lost in the second round against the Ottawa Senators, who'd gone on to win the Stanley Cup for the first time, ever.
When he signed a four year contract extension for $28.4 million, the city was overjoyed. They had a great goalie they could rely on, and Blaine's ego ate it up.
His head swelled so much, it was a surprise he could fit it into the net. He was nice to the fans too. Sometimes a little more than nice.
You see, Blaine Anderson was a flirt. A gigantic, egotistical flirt.
Of course the girls ate it up, and Blaine loved it because the more fan support he got, the more likely he was to stay in Buffalo, a city he had come to love.
However, there was a small complication. Well, Blaine wouldn't call it small.
Blaine's dick just wouldn't go up if it was a female grinding on him in a club on Chippewa.
When girls asked why, he just said it was stress of being a professional. They bought it.
That didn't stop them from telling every one of their friends that they hooked up with hockey legend, Blaine Anderson.
Blaine knew he was 100% gay, but he also knew the NHL wasn't exactly 100% pro-gay. So he kept his sexuality to himself. Blaine hasn't touched a boy in over 3 years.
Blaine's been with the Sabres for 3 years. They've yet to win a Cup.
But Blaine Anderson is determined to make 2020-21 his fucking year.
Kurt Hummel knew a lot about everything.
But he knew nothing about hockey.
He grew up in an obnoxious hockey town. His dad was all about his team, The Sabres.
Kurt couldn't tell you the difference between the blue line and the goal crease.
It was really inconvenient. On game nights, there was no getting through to his father.
All of his friends from high school all loved hockey just as much as his father did, and it irritated Kurt to no end.
He preferred to spend his time reading Vogue and watching Project Runway.
Not reading Sports Illustrated and watching Sports Center.
He wanted to get out of Buffalo for as long as he could remember. Then his father had a heart attack and it looked like he was stuck. He went to a local college, majored in fashion design and that was that.
He'd had big dreams of a Broadway stage and New York City.
Now he was stuck working with an amateur designer who'd never gotten very much business. Her shop on Elmwood was small and situated badly between a chocolate shop and a Wilson Farms. She sold things for a lot of money. Her clothes weren't that great, but Kurt didn't have the heart to tell her that.
He also didn't have enough money to support himself after she fired him. So he kept his thoughts to himself and worked the cash register like the good paid intern he was.
He lived in a small apartment on Elmwood, by himself. His father lived in the suburb of Orchard Park, and Kurt went to visit him often. He was well taken care of by his wife Carole, but that never stopped Kurt from worrying.
Especially on game nights.
Kurt was always afraid that Burt would send himself into cardiac arrest whenever the Sabres didn't do as well as they were expected to. So most often, Kurt found himself at his childhood home on game nights.
He cooked dinner and laid out healthy snacks for Burt (and most of the time, Finn too). He would sit in the armchair furthest from the T.V. and read the newest edition of Vogue or something moderately interesting while his father watched the game. Every time Kurt felt Burt was getting too worked up, he would look up from his magazine and say, "Dad, please don't go into cardiac arrest before you see them win a Cup." It would force Burt back into his seat for about 10 minutes before he was at it again. Kurt would sigh and go back to his magazine.
When Kurt was in high school, he made the observation that he only had a father 3 or 4 nights a week. The rest of Burt's nights were devoted completely to his team. Kurt was lucky he was mostly self-sufficient; otherwise he never would have survived high school.
Kurt knew that Burt was getting old and that his heart was weak. Often times, Kurt had contemplated canceling Burt's cable so he would stop getting himself worked up over a goddamn sport. He knew though, that the games were the only times the entire family was together, and he didn't want to take that away from Burt. Not yet, at least.
But if he had to hear about how much of a "net minding genius" Blaine Anderson was, he was going to cut the cable wires himself.
And he would fucking enjoy it.