I don't even know what this is. I just had the idea because I play hockey, and I thought Shaw would be a total badass NHL player. I hope it's as fun to read as it was to write! I'm not sure how many chapters there will be of this, at least two or three, but I would love comments and suggestions!
Shouting and the clattering of sticks against ice echoes in the rink as Sameen Shaw takes a gulp from her water bottle. She unscrewes the cap and pours some water on her head, slicking back the strands of hair that have come loose from her ponytail. Groaning, she turns to look at her teammates. "Come on, guys, we've beat Detroit before, we can do it again! They just got a few lucky shots, but we're gonna get 'em back!" "That's right." One of the defenseman, Harold Finch, speaks up. "You're doing exceptionally, Fusco." "Thanks, glasses." The team's goalie, Lionel Fusco, smacks Sameen with his stick and points to Harold. "See, why can't you be this nice, Shaw?" "Suck it up, Fusco. I'm not a naturally nice person, just ask Gen." Fusco snorts as he throws his water bottle behind the bench. "Yeah, poor kid, has to live with you. I admire her courage." Shaw rolls her eyes as her teammates laugh at her expense. "Don't worry, Sam." Finch's defensive partner, Root, has somehow snuck up behind her and slings her arms around Sameen's shoulders; her hot breath tickles Shaw's neck, making her stomach feel all weird and floaty. That seems to happen a lot when Root's around, and Sameen's fucking pissed about it. Fucking Root with her wavy hair and lavender body wash and fucking giraffe legs. "Who's worried?" Shaw says defensively, shrugging Root's warm arms off of her shoulders and turning her attention back to the rest of the team. "All right, enough chatter, focus on the game!" The team's manager and coach, Zoe Morgan, speaks up authoritatively. "Shaw, Reese, Carter, you're up. Give 'em hell." Shaw and her linemates nod and head back out on the rink as the ref blows his whistle.
Sameen throws herself on the bench in the locker room, groaning as she stretches out her sore muscles. Root throws her a glance that is entirely too flirty for Shaw's taste, and leans into Shaw's personal space with a seductive smile. "Having trouble stretching, Sam? I could help you with that, you know." Shaw rolls her eyes and shoves Root roughly back to her side of the bench. "Fuck off, Root." Root just laughs and leans down to untie her laces, making sure to show off her ass as she does so. Shaw forces herself to look away as she peels her sweaty jersey off and throws it in her bag slightly harder than necessary. Her shoulder pads and elbow pads follow, until she is wearing nothing on her top half except her black sports bra. She yanks her skates off and is busy throwing her shin pads and socks into the bag when she feels Root's eyes on her. "See something you like, Root?" Joss asks with a knowing smirk, nodding to Shaw in her sports bra and boyshorts, as she combs through her sweaty hair with her hands, shaking it out. Root merely smirks and moves closer to Shaw, unable to keep her eyes off of her muscled arms and her round ass. "Knock it off, Root, I can feel you undressing me with your eyes." Shaw grumbles. "Fucking pervert." She adds as she grabs a hair tie from the bench. Root leans in so close that their noses are practically touching, and whispers, "Whatever you say, sweetie." Shaw backs up to the other side of the bench and pulls her black t-shirt on, throws her water bottle into her bag and yanks her jeans on as quickly as she can so Root doesn't get another fucking chance to ogle her naked body at the showers. Sameen will just shower at home, for all she cares. She texts Gen quickly to let her know she's on her way home as she stands up and throws her bag over her shoulder and leaves Root and her big brown eyes and long, slender legs behind to finish undressing along with Joss.
Sameen is just pulling into the driveway of the apartment when her phone beeps, alerting her to an incoming text. It's from Tomas, a simple: hey, want to blow off some steam?. Sameen considers for a moment, before shrugging and texting back: your place or mine? She pockets her phone and enters the apartment, shaking her head as she spots the unlocked door. How many times has she reminded Gen that if she wants to stay at home alone while Shaw is at a game, that she has to lock the door! Sameen walks toward Gen's room, throwing her hockey bag onto the floor in the living room as she goes. She checks her phone and sees Tomas's response, sighing at his suggestion of a nearby bar. She hates having sex in bars, it's always in either a bathroom or a cramped booth, not very comfortable, and she feels like she has to have a time limit when she's there, because of the kid, and so then she worries and has to call Joss or John to check in on her while Shaw is off having mind blowing sex with the Detroit defenseman. She texts back: be there in twenty, have to check on my kid. At this point her life revolves around several things: hockey, Gen, food, and sex. And Harold's dog Bear, probably. She fucking loves that dog more than all of her silly-ass friends combined. Sameen walks into Gen's room to the blasting of music coming out of the kid's speakers. Gen herself looks to be absorbed in scribbling in some sort of notebook, so invested in her task that she doesn't notice Shaw's presence until Shaw unplugs the speaker abruptly and the whole room falls silent. Gen looks up suddenly with an indignant cry. "Shaw! What the hell!" Shaw smacks the kid on the back of the head and shakes her head. "Really, kid? You don't lock the door, and you don't even keep an ear out for intruders? If you're not going to take the necessary precautions when you're home alone, then you're going to have to come along to games and wait for me there. I've told you plenty of times, lock the freaking door!" Shaw's not sure when becoming a parent became so fucking stressful, but she wishes that one of the boys had clued her in on how exhausting all of it is. She's pretty sure that Harold and John hadn't seemed this worn out after adopting Leila, and even Lionel seems to do better than she's doing! In her defense, it's harder than it looks. She has to keep the kid clothed, fed, happy, and take her to school and hockey practice and all of that shit. And that's not even counting all of the teenage angst she has to deal with. Shaw's apartment has practically transformed into a cesspool of brooding adolescent hormones and drama, and she doesn't have the energy to deal with any of it on her best days. Gen starts her tirade of usual excuses, of oh Shaw, I'm sorry, I forgot, honest and I won't forget next time! Sameen doesn't have the patience, so she interrupts with a simple, "I'm going out, Harold will come by to check on you." Gen nods, looking relieved to have escaped the impending lecture, and Shaw texts Harold quickly, asking him to come and look in, maybe make some dinner. She's grabbing her coat and hurrying out the door when Harold texts back an affirmative, and Sameen pockets her phone, satisfied, and heads out to the bar down the street.