"No no no! Don't shake it!"

"Too late! Ha ha! Now check this shit out!"

"Well don't let it-fuuuuck."

Too late. Stan popped the cork off the champagne in an explosive fashion. He raised the bottle in the air to spray it over everyone's head, using his thumb to spray it more effectively. The girls screamed and tried to cover themselves while some of the guys cheered or, in Oxnard's case, even tried to drink it. Maxwell laughed while Sandy tried to hide her face and her hair in his jacket, out of the champagne stream. This party was all for him. Over on the table where Stan had retrieved the champagne, his Computer and I.T degree sat in an attractive frame next to a cake decorated to match the certificate. It only made him worth more. He had been working for Kaiba Corp since he earned his associates, designing holograms and software for the Battle Monsters Franchise. With every degree he acquired, his value and rank in the company increased.

They were at their own little after party at a hotel ballroom. Maybe not little. A lot of family and friends had shown up, as well as co-workers of Maxwell's, and even some of the upper crust Sandy worked with.

"Ohmigosh! Your Nick Barto!" Pashmina said to a big guy with black hair and a hockey jersey. "Oh my, had I known you would have been here, I would have done something with my hair!" Sheblushed furiously, and Nick laughed. It was all cute to him.

"Always nice to meet a fan." He shook Pashmina's hand and she giggled. Nick, like the rest of his team, were all big guys with a big build and muscles, but they had personalities like harmless puppy dogs.

Sandy was the assistant coach for his ice hockey team, the Air Guitar, and had been for about five years. Some of the players who knew Maxwell had shown up at the party.

Sandy released Maxwell and started to comb through her hair, as if that would get any of the wasted champagne out.

"I'm gonna kill Stan." Sandy said, frowning. "I'm all sticky." She singled out a thick lock of hair and combed through it furiously.

Maxwell grinned slyly. "You say that like its a bad thing." Sandy rolled her eyes and gave him a light punch in the shoulder.

"Your turning into quite the dog." Sandy said, the smile on her face daring him. Maxwell smiled.

"Now I'm done with school, I can have a sense of humor again. So come here." He grabbed her waist and pulled her into a gentle kiss. Sandy blushed. He only behaved like this when he was happy, or his mind was...elsewhere. She decided it was the second one. They parted and smiled.

"I'll give you your present once we get home." Sandy told him in a heated voice with her eyes lowered. Maxwell's eyes and grin got wide.

"I'm gonna pull the fire alarm! Back in a sec." He turned to leave, but Sandy grabbed the back of his collar.

"No. Naughty."

Stan spun them some music and they partied into the night. The party wound down as it got late. The Air Guitar players had to leave. Like Sandy, they got up at around 6 am every morning for practice and a meeting.

Sandy and Maxwell didn't get to their apartment until after midnight. Sandy took a quick shower and Maxwell disappeared into their office. When she entered the office, running her fingers through her hair and clutching a black towel close, Maxwell was hanging his final degree in their office with the others. Though they were wealthy, the 2 bedroom apartment was all they needed. They shared an office in the larger bedroom, the nature of their jobs requiring some occasional work from home, and they slept in the small one. When they first moved in, Sandy insisted they use the small one because it looked "cozy" and Maxwell thought of at least ten other synonyms for cozy.

"You know..." Maxwell started "I've been thinking..."

"No." Sandy cut him off. "You have enough degrees. You don't need anymore. Seriously." She pointed to one. "Pharmaceuticals, Economics, Law and Drama? You've done everything." She picked up a hairbrush and sat on the leather couch. "At least their all paid for."

"No..." Maxwell said, smiling coyly. "I was thinking about the present you mentioned back at the hotel." He thought of something that could be taken wrong and smiled. "And I haven't done eeeeeeverything." Sandy had no idea what he was thinking of, but it probably involved sex. Maxwell had long thought it for some time now, and decided now was about a good time in life to buy a house and get married. With their income, he could retire early (Sandy wouldn't want to) and live their comfortable life together. He had somewhat of a plan to ask Sandy the ever important question, and those plans involved him being at work early tomorrow and typing the final draft of that letter he had written. He hadn't gotten all the details down though. The person for whom the letter was intended...well, he hoped he would have an idea.

"Yeah. You haven't done pro wrestling. And I don't think you should." Sandy said, rolling her eyes. That gave Maxwell an idea. He smiled and began to crack his knuckles. Sandy looked at him confused. "What are you doing?"

"This!" Maxwell tackled her on the couch and pinned her beneath him. Sandy giggled loudly as she was pushed back into the couch, her arms flying above her head and releasing her grip on the towel.

"You know I can still kick your ass." She said, smiling up at him. "I could probably beat it from here if I hadn't have dropped the brush."

"Yeah." Maxwell said, sweat dropping. "Don't do that. I like living." Sandy giggled a little as he said that. Maxwell leaned in to give her a long, gentle kiss. They smiled when they broke apart.

"You can have your present in the bedroom." Sandy said with a smiling serious face.

After Sandy grabbed the alarm clock and threw it with incredible strength for being in a sleepy state, Maxwell had to wake up real quick and grab it before she broke yet another one. She grabbed a hold of it with one hand and tossed it as hard as she could away from the bed, without even opening her eyes or sitting up. If they kept it on his side of the bed, he hit the snooze button, and if they kept it across the room, Sandy would get back in bed after "beatsticking" it.

Sandy and Maxwell both wake up early for work. The sweetest thing in the world was how Maxwell would sneak outside and start her car so it would be warm for her when she was ready to leave. It made her drive to the arena that day very pleasant. She arrived with the usual 2 dozen donuts and box of coffee balanced on her arm in a sharp pants and blazer suit with a white shirt and a pinstripe tie. Her chin length orange hair was usually tied back, but trendy. Sandy tried her best to look professional, yet sexy, so she wouldn't have to worry about how she looked when approached by a journalist or a reporter. She enters the locker room early as usual and pulls her palm pilot cell phone from her pocket with her free hand.

Todays agenda:
Practice (Shoot into goal for with and without goalie)
Discuss this years playoff plan (draft, new plays, etc)
Hire new mascot
Send equipment to repairs

She set the breakfast and her briefcase on the desk in the coaches office and sat on a bench to lace up her skates. She was early enough to play around on the ice before the players arrived. And she loved it.

Time passed, players and arena staff arrived. Sandy stood on the ice near the rink exit next to her boss, Coach Ryan Stevens, but everyone's nickname for him was Spike. How he had gotten this nickname was a mystery to Sandy. If you asked him about it, he would start laughing and It'd end with him rolling on the floor saying something about a cowboy hat. No one wanted to investigate it.

"We start the players on practicing shots on the goalie to warm him up, then maybe a little skirmish to get 'em active." Sandy told Spike. He nods as she speaks. "Looks like 2 player contracts will expire at the end of the season, I've put the details on the yellow paper. Uhhh...your wife called, she told me you'd know what it was about if I winked twice." Sandy rolled her eyes. "Also, here's the mail and notices that require your attention and-"

"HEY!" Spike yelled into the arena. "Watch that high sticking! Sorry, go on."

"The owners have decided were doing a fund raiser game this year for some charity. The information's on this blue paper here. They didn't do a good job on the arrangements though." Sandy said, pointing to a paragraph on the blue sheet.

"Oh." Spike said, seeing what she was indicating. "Were playing the Hairy Clams back to back?"

"That's what she said!" Someone on the ice shouted.

"Shut up Cheesefries! And get shooting!" Sandy yelled, pointing at the goal. 'Cheesefries' was the nickname for a player called Chris Deason. He wore the '50' jersey and rolled his eyes at his coaches before resuming practice. All the players had unique nicknames, or better, codenames. It was a measure to protect from the other team understanding their plays.

As Sandy took to the ice, in her sharp business suit to coach the players shooting, Spike sat down in the player box with the notices and schedule. Nothing unusual. Resumes from high school kids wanting work experience. Well, they did need a new sucker to wear the mascot suit this season. He set them into a pile for Sandy to review later. There were some forms from the teams insurance company. He sighed and scooted those off the table into a trashcan. Magazine, cell phone bill, another insurance document...

He had started to open the cell phone bill when an employee of the arena entered the box.

"Excuse me sir. A parcel from Kaiba Corp arrived for you." The employee said, holding out a yellow envelope. "The gentleman who delivered it said it required immediate attention."

"Oh, thanks." Spike took it lazily and set it on the top of the pile and the employee left.

Spike heaved a heavy sigh and opened the envelope. Immediate attention? Such fuss over an envelope that contained only a single piece of paper and a business card. He lazily waved it open and began to read, and was pleased to see it wasn't a sales letter.

Mr Stevens-

Thank you for your attention to my letter. It's Maxwell, I'm dating Sandy, and I need a favor that needs to remain secret. My telephone number is on the card.

-Maxwell

Spike looked on the ice to see Sandy, as usual, verbally abusing the players. Nothing unusual about that. Surely he wouldn't notice him slip the letter and card into his pocket, sneak into his office, lock himself in and draw the shades. He knew Maxwell, but he didn't know what he would want to ask. After he locked the door, he pulled the card out of his pocket, leaned back in his chair, and dialed the number. He threw his legs on the desk and the phone was picked up.

"This is Maxwell." The person on the other end simply replied. Spike got the impression that the speaker was occupied.

"Hey, it's Spike. I got word you needed a favor."