This is the product of my over-active imagination. I was talking to my cousin, and she mentioned that whilst playing sports, she fell over and it "cained". Which naturally made me think of Caine. In shorts. Which eventually led to this. Enjoy, have a nice Christmas and leave me a review!

Drake Merwin was uncommonly good at sports.

This wasn't due to some magnificent natural talent or even because he was skilled at cheating. It was because he intimidated every other player on the field.

The fact was, Drake never lost.

Only one person was stupid enough to challenge this. Normally, Caine didn't care what happened on the field: cheating, blackmail, the inevitable violence, just as long as his team won. However, normal didn't quite cut it when a certain Diana Ladris was thrown into the mix.

"Today," announced the coach, clapping his hands together. "We'll be doing hockey. I'll separate you into teams, and – don't do that, Merwin!"

Drake looked up, annoyed. He'd been carving his name into the bench with a pair of scissors he'd managed to sneak from the office (Dr Phil had insisted to the teachers that special precautions needed to be taken when Drake was told to cut and paste; he might take the first part of the instruction literally).

"Merwin, you'll be on Soren's team," said Coach Boon, pointing to a smug Caine and privately feeling sorry for everyone who'd suffer on their side. Then again, it was the opposition who should be worried. The coach only hoped that Caine would be able to control the psychopath.

Drake frowned at the floor, hating Caine, who was commanding his team loudly, shoving them into a military style line. It was only grudgingly that he trailed out to the stadium.

Drake cheered up considerably when he was handed a stick. He tested its weight in his hands, then swung it experimentally.

"That's not a weapon, Mr Merwin!" called the coach quickly.

"Of course not," answered Drake innocently; a bad sign.

"Well – ugh, good," said the coach. "What are you waiting for? Into the stadium!"

The boys filed in without any enthusiasm, most not even bothering to pretend to stretch. A cold breeze threw the vibrant autumn leaves around, raising goosebumps on Drake's arm.

It was then that he noticed her making her way across the pitch, dark hair dancing with the wind. She gave Coach Boon a crumpled note, speaking to him in a low voice as he scanned whatever was written on it. Boon gave a nod before pointing to a bench in the corner. Drake was pleased to note that Diana was limping, although she was probably faking it.

Caine, who seconds ago, had been slouching and scowling, stood up straight, running a hand through his dark hair. He tried not to glance her way and failed within five seconds.

"Did anyone catch that?" he asked urgently. "What's she doing?"

"Something like she's twisted her ankle, and that Coach Davis thinks she has to sit supervised while the girls are doing their run," supplied Benno.

Caine pretended that he wasn't bothered, giving a fake yawn and flexing his biceps. He couldn't stop his eyes from flickering to Diana's corner to see if it had had the desired effect. She was looking at her nails instead.

Drake was the only boy who seemed indifferent to Diana's presence.

Coach Boon blew his whistle, grabbing their attention. "Okay, ladies," he called loudly. "Get into position."

Caine stopped his team leaving. "Whatever you do, pass the ball to me," he instructed, once again shooting a furtive look at Diana to see if she was watching. She was. The trademark smirk was plastered to her face as she looked him up and down. Caine suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that he was wearing shorts.

"What?" asked Drake.

"Listen, Drake, I'm telling you one simple thing. You pass me the ball, I score." Caine blushed slightly at his choice of words. "Just do it," he advised.

Drake took up his position as attack, a fitting position. No way was he letting Caine show off; he did enough of that already. As soon as Coach Boon blew the whistle Drake was running, chasing the bright yellow ball. He intercepted Andrew with a well aimed blow to the leg. Andrew whimpered but the game continued on, with a victorious Drake sprinting up the pitch with the ball.

Caine followed beside him. "Pass it! Pass!"

Drake ignored him, dodging past the defence who only half-heartedly attempted to stop him. The goal keeper got ready. Drake glanced up at him. "Boo," he said in a bored voice, and the boy moved to the left as quickly as possible, creating an opening. Drake took the shot and scored.

Caine grabbed his arm. "I thought I told you to –"

The coach blew his whistle and Caine ran back into his position, more determined than before. Drake followed suit.

The game began again, and this time Caine was the faster one, darting forwards and tackling Oscar deftly. He, like Drake, hardly got any resistance. Straight ahead was the unguarded goal, and Caine got ready to –

WHAM!

Caine fell backwards, his leg throbbing, a bruise already appearing. Drake ran past, smirking, with the neon ball. He scored again.

"We're on the same team, Drake!" roared Caine.

"Oh – sorry, Caine, I thought you were someone else," Drake smirked. "My mistake."

In her corner, Diana was laughing. Who knew that hockey was so fun to watch? Caine looked as if he was about to storm off the pitch, but after he stole another look at Diana, who tried to hide her amusement, he got up and resumed playing. The effect she seemed to have over him whilst wearing her sports kit was interesting.

"If you don't pass the ball to me, Merwin, you'll be sorry," Caine threatened. Drake shrugged as if he didn't understand what Caine was talking about.

Once more, play continued. Freddie had the ball, but Drake put up one hand to stop him. "Give. Now."

Freddie made the wiser choice.

Drake ran forwards, laughing when he heard Caine chasing behind him. He'd never catch up; Drake was just about to –

Suddenly he stopped. Drake literally could not move. It was as if the air around him had solidified, or his body had seized up. He struggled, flailing, but couldn't manage to take another step. What was – Caine. The freak was using his weird, mutant powers against him.

Caine jogged up casually beside him. One hand was extended out, holding Drake, but Caine managed to do this discreetly, keeping his arm as close to his side as possible. No-one would be able to tell except for the two boys and possibly Diana.

"Nice pass, Drake," he smirked, taking the ball. He released Drake just as he shot for the goal.

"What are you doing?" snarled Drake.

Caine ignored him.

Diana was laughing now. Drake's face was the perfect mix of pure fury and confusion. He'd looked like an idiot – well, a bigger one than usual – just standing there, yet moving his body and head back and forth in an attempt to wiggle free. Caine winked at her.

She couldn't help herself. "Nice shot, Merwin!"

Drake stuck his middle finger up at her.

The coach blew his whistle and Drake sprang forwards, pushing Tyler out of the way and giving him a kick for good measure. The coach blew his whistle to give a penalty to the other team, but Drake ignored him. Caine barged into him, and Drake attempted to shoulder him out of the way. Caine used one hand, eyes fixed on the ball, to stop Drake's feet from moving, and Drake fell, managing to pull Caine down with him. The ball rolled away slowly, and Coach Boon continued to blow the whistle, his face turning brick red, but neither boy noticed; they rolled around on the floor, punching, kicking, and in the case of Drake, biting. Neither boy acknowledged the pain; hatred, embarrassment and anger was fuelling them.

"Stop!" bellowed the coach, pulling them apart by the collars. "What do you think you're doing?"

Drake spat out a mouthful of blood and grinned evilly at Caine, who looked as if he was going to get a black eye.

"Sorry," Drake said, putting up his hands in a placating gesture. The coach blinked in surprise and stepped back. Drake lunged.

"Mr – Merwin – stop – no!" Coach Boon pulled a roaring Drake's arms behind his back and began dragging him away. "Follow me, Soren."

Caine gave a fake cheery wave to Drake, who began struggling even harder, shouting and swearing in fury.

Diana caught up with him. "What was all that about?"

"Just teaching Drake a lesson," answered Caine hoping for nonchalance.

"I'll kill you, Caine!" Drake screamed.

"Interesting lesson," she said, eyeing the bruises on his cheek and eye. "Sounds like you showed him."

Caine shrugged.

"Miss Ladris, you can catch up with your boyfriend some other time. I'm taking these two to the Headmistress' office." The coach motioned her to leave with a jerk of his head; Drake was still attempting to murder Caine.

Diana glared at the coach, ignoring Caine's smile, and glanced over at Drake. "Hey, Drake!"

He stopped swearing, indicating he was listening.

Diana smirked. "Nice legs."

Drake roared in fury.

For some strange reason, hockey was taken off the sports curriculum.

There you have it! R&R and forever be loved by me. I'm not sure whether to leave it here or continue, as I have a few ideas.