A/T:
Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia, or any of the songs that appear in this chapter.
My Friend Natalia
Chapter 16
"Get on."
Alfred was prompt, and that pissed her off—she couldn't horn all she wanted and blame it on his lack of punctuality. He got into the side carriage, and put his helmet on. "Let's go!" he yelled, and she rolled her eyes as she started the Harley. Since hers was a one-seater, she had long before gotten herself a side carriage.
She was quite…nervous. She didn't know why. Matt was a really good player; he must've gotten so much, much better in the past few weeks. But still…she drove a little faster. She didn't want him to be disappointed. It didn't matter to her whether he won or lost—she just wanted him to be happy.
There. She admitted it.
She thought about what she could give him as a farewell gift…well, if he was going. She didn't want to give him something trifle or stupid, like a mug or a keychain or dogtags. She wanted him to be reminded of her whenever he saw that. She didn't want to give him a photoframe—they'd taken millions of photographs with each other, but a photoframe was too…much. She felt it was too unlike her, and it…well, it just didn't feel right.
"You're going to fry your brains if you think so much."
Startled, Nat saw the red light and stopped, and turned to Al. "What?"
"What are you thinking about?"
She shook her head, and looked at the red light, thinking. What could she give Matt? She could give him socks. But she needed him to look at his feet to remember her…and all he'd think about would probably be how stinky they were. Yuck. She could give him a badge, but he'd tote it around all the time, and that would embarrass her. She shuddered, then turned the engine back on as the lights changed to green.
What did he use all the time? What could she give him that would be inconspicuous, yet remind him of her? She took a left, parked in her usual spot and switched off the engine. Bogi, she had been his best friend for so freaking long. She would come up with it.
Clothes. He wore clothes a lot. He didn't like roaming around without clothes on, no matter how hot the weather. Fine. She would give him some—
Someone jerked her back, throwing her back into the real world. She turned, and saw Alfred holding her arm. "Eh?"
"You were going to walk into that car," he said, and sighed. "I just wish you'd tell me what you were thinking about. Two heads are better than one."
"I'm better off without your head," she retorted, but sighed. "I'm just wondering…never mind. Thank you."
His arm curled around her waist. "So that you don't walk into something else when you're thinking," he said, and guided her. Grateful for his support—and painfully aware of his hand on her waist—Nat thought of exactly what she could give Matt, but it was quite distracting, having Al's thumb rub up and down idly, and his fingers were thrumming on her side…she decided she'd keep herself from thinking for a while.
"I'm done thinking," she said.
"Hmm?"
"I'm. Done. Thinking. Thank. You."
"Oh. Oh." He quickly removed his arm, and put his hand in his pocket. She focussed on the black shirt he was wearing instead. "Somehow, you didn't manage to ruin it."
"Ha-ha. Just admit it, Natalia—I look hot."
He looked sexy, but that was beside the point. She snorted, and looked at the colour combination—it had silver and navy blue stripes down the sleeves, and the caption at the back and the silhouette in the front were all in silver. "Keep dreaming. Have you seen the Scottsdale players play?"
Al nodded. "They're fantastic. They've represented the state quite a number of times, and a few of their players are on contract basis with the NHL. You know, even if we don't win today, I hope some of the players get noticed. Matt, especially. It's always been his dream to do something like this."
Nat nodded, looking away. If she didn't see Al in the eye, maybe he wouldn't—
"Hey!"
She jerked back—he grabbed her arm again, and she spun up at him, all the turbulent emotions not quite hidden away. Al's eyes widened in realization, and she was shocked by what she saw there.
She saw empathy.
How could he possibly even guess how she was feeling? He couldn't have any idea how it was for her, right now—
I know.
Those eyes…how had she missed the strength in them? Why had she only seen what she wanted to?
My baby brother's going to leave the nest. It hurts me too much to say it.
They were drawing her in, drawing the pain she'd trapped in. Why did it hurt so much?
But I have to let him go. And…so do you.
It gushed like a tidal wave—Natalia closed her eyes at the onslaught of pain, breaking the moment that seemed like ages. She felt Al pull her back slightly, and then let go of her arm. "Y-You were going to walk into that wall," he muttered. "Pay more attention, Natalia."
Still reeling, she didn't snap or reply sharply. She just nodded, and the two of them walked into the hall. It was painful, standing so close to him, so she stepped away as discreetly as possible. She was in his debt, and being rude was not an option. Looking out for herself was, though.
But what was she looking out from?
She saw the turn to the locker rooms, and walked towards it. Al was about to walk past it, but she grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him in.
"Oh. Thanks."
She muttered something, and let go of his sleeve, walking ahead to the locker room. She turned to Al. "Do you want to go first?"
He smiled at her. "Thank you."
She nodded, and stood back as he called Matt out.
"Hey, broski," Al greeted, and crushed Matt in a hug. Matt was equally strong, so it didn't really make a difference for him. Al leaned back and ruffled his brother's hair. "Funny without a hoodie, don't you think?"
Hoodie! Of course! She could give him a hoodie—he was so obsessed with them he wore it even in summer. She could make one for him—Elizabeta kept bugging her to help her with the designing and production, but she'd told her she'd stick to delivery. She'd just have to ask Eliza again.
As she thought about what to do, she watched the brothers interact. Matt laughed, and said something that made Al pout and hit his arm. She, for some reason, couldn't hear what they were saying—it was as if they were in a soundproof bubble, locked away inside from the rest of the world.
It didn't strike her then, but when she would look back at it, a year later, she would realize that it was the last time the three of them stood like that, carefree, excited, happy. That was the key word—happy. They would meet many more times, but for that year, that was the last time all three of them would be happy.
"Natalia?"
Nat snapped out of her meandering thoughts, and the first thing she saw was Matt's expectant face. She walked to him and opened her mouth, not knowing what to say.
Alfred took it as his cue to leave, and after muttering something, he left.
Nat looked up at Matt, who was smiling at her. "Thank you."
"I didn't say anything."
He shrugged, and she narrowed her eyes. "Does wearing that jersey make you cocky, durak?"
"They say that captains are supposed to be that way."
She took hold of his large hand. "All the best."
"Thank you."
"Don't lose. I'll hit you if you lose. With my Harley. I'll run you down, I swear"—
Matt swooped down, pressed his lips to hers. Aah. Here, no words were needed. With a small sigh, Nat opened her mouth, and ran her hands into his hair, undoing the kerchief he'd tied his hair back with. He kissed the side of her mouth, groaned softly when she slipped her tongue inside. His hand slipped under, pushed her up to him. Time stopped. She could hear his soft breathing, smell the pine and sweat that was so familiar to her. He ran his tongue on the inside of her cheek; she tasted the sickeningly sweet taste of bubblegum in his mouth. She didn't care. She nipped his lower lip, moaned when his fingers found her sensitive spot to the right of her spine. He pulled on her lips gently, and that made her giggle for some reason. It was infectious; he chuckled, too, and before they knew it, they were laughing, foreheads against each other.
She leaned back, her eyes suspiciously bright. She reached up and hugged him. "You can do it."
He planted a kiss on the underside of her cheekbone. "Thank you."
"I'll be the psychotic woman waving her arms around, threatening to kill you."
He laughed. "I'll look out for you."
She gave him one last squeeze, and leaned back. She took hold of both his hands, and kissed the back of each palm. She looked at him. "Give 'em hell."
He nodded, and kissed her forehead. "I will."
Unwillingly, she let go of his hand, and saw her brother standing there, eyebrow raised. Matt turned, and jumped a feet in the air. "I-Ivan!"
"Coach's calling, comrade," Ivan informed, and Matt gave her a shy grin before gulping nervously and heading inside.
Ivan turned to his little sister, and cleared his throat meaningfully. Nat averted her eyes, blushing. "Eto grubo."
"Net. It's not rude when I'm looking out for you."
"From Matt?" she asked incredulously.
Ivan shrugged. "I'm your elder brother."
She took his hand and kissed it. "Delayte vse vozmozhnoye."
"With a captain like Matthew, I can do nothing but my best, sestrenka."
She nodded curtly, and he ruffled her hair. "Hey!" she grumbled.
"Da. A girl cares about her hair. Izvinite. I liked it better when you had shorter hair."
Her eyes narrowed. "You kicked me out of the house for cutting it off."
He just shrugged. "Spasibo."
She nodded, gave his hand one last squeeze. Both of them turned at the same time and walked away, never looking back.
Al joined her at the entrance, holding a lot of food. He passed her two flags. "I'll give you the grub once we sit down"—
"Who says I'm sitting with you?"
"I have caramel popcorn."
She rolled her eyes, and he grinned slyly. "I have my sources. Let's go in."
Nat kept her eyes out for Elizabeta.
"Whom are you searching for?"
"Elizabeta."
"They're there."
She looked in the direction he pointed, and turned to him. "Caramel popco—hey!"
She watched as he walked down, and plopped himself right next to Eliza. He turned, and stuck his tongue out at her.
Ublyudok…she marched right up, kicked him in his shin, and sat down on the outside seat next to him.
"Umm…hello, kids."
Nat looked around Al, and gave her a small smile. She grinned sweetly at Nat, then turned to Al. "O-ho. Someone's decided to show his face today."
"My little bro's playing, Eliza aunty."
"You two better not start fighting in the middle," Eliza warned.
Nat snorted, and both of them pointed at the other at the same time. "Tell him," she said at the same time as he said, "Tell her." Both of them glared, and Eliza got up. "Nat, come and sit here. Al, move to the side."
"We're not babies, Eliza aunty," Al groaned, but still got up.
"You're acting downright spoiled," Eliza said, and sat down where Al was sitting. Nat and Al made a big show of pushing each other, then sat down. Nat leaned to Eliza. "I need your help."
"What can I do?"
"I decided to make a hoodie for Matt." Before Eliza could yell in delight, Nat shushed her. "I want it to be a surprise. That means that durak can't get to know."
"Okay, okay. We'll do it, whether they win or not. But my bet's on them."
"Spasibo."
Eliza smiled, and squeezed her hand. "You mustn't take so much of tension for such things. It'll happen, you'll see."
Grateful for her encouragement, Nat turned to the ice.
"Eli!"
Eliza turned, and squealed upon seeing her best friend. "Lissy!" she beamed, and tackled Alice into a hug. Nat and Al watched as they gushed over each other and then they gushed over Francis. Al got up, and Nat followed. He hugged Alice, and grinned as Francis ruffled his hair. Alice came over, and hugged Nat. "Hello, luv. Thanks for the shirt." Alice leaned back, and looked at her red shirt. "I love this colour."
Nat smiled. "I thought you would."
They again got reshuffled, and now Nat was sitting between Alice and Al, with Eliza next to Alice and Francis next to Al. Nat took her packet of popcorn, and began tossing them into her mouth, waiting for everyone to settle down.
"Oi, piece of advice," Al said, leaning over.
"Don't eat and talk."
He swallowed hurriedly. "Have you ever seen a hockey match?"
"Net."
"Don't listen to the commentators. Get up when you have to. And ask me if you don't get it."
She wanted to refute the offer, but she was pretty sure she was going to need it. "Hmm."
Al turned and began talking to his dad, and Alice and Eliza were talking to each other. Nat popped the sweet popcorn into her stomach, and nearly choked on one when someone squealed, "Natae!"
She thumped herself on the back, and turned. "Tanusha," she rasped, her eyes watering.
"I was looking all over for you! Let's sit together!"
Before Nat could say anything, Alice invited Tanusha's family to sit with them, and Al whispered, "Natae, huh? I guess I'll call you"—
"I'll choke you with that hot dog, ublyudok."
All of them reshuffled again, and Nat was stuck between Tanu and Al, who decided to flirt around her. She rolled her eyes, and jumped to her feet when she saw the players enter. Others did the same, and the cheer as their players entered was deafening. Scottsdale had also come to support their players, and their cheer made up for enthusiasm and rowdy name calling where it didn't for sheer volume.
The players began doing moving around on the rink. Gilbert was a linesman, while Scottsdale had sent Billy Capricorne as linesman and Shawn Brebis as referee. The two captains, Matthew Bonnefoy and Henry Dukardy, greeted the officials and shook hands with each other.
"All the best, Bonnefoy," Dukardy said. "Do well."
Matt instantly liked Dukardy; he was a true sportsman. "It's an honour to be playing with you."
Dukardy laughed. "What are you saying? Besides, I'm going to do my best to kick your arse."
Matt grinned. "Well, tell me when you achieve that."
Dukardy patted Matt on his arm, and sped off around the rink. Matt decided to go around, encouraging everyone on his team with a single nod. He had to be confident—he had to lead his team. It was on him to make sure they did their best. He couldn't hide behind anyone now—the spotlight was on him. And he damned well wasn't going to run from it.
He caught Ivan's eye, and both of them nodded at each other. Ivan was the first person Matt turned to on the ice; next was Diego. The hierarchy was set that way, consciously, unconsciously. And Matt accepted it, and also was quite grateful—Ivan was as much a captain as he was.
Nat watched as all of them lined up, shook hands, and moved to their respective areas on the ice. On the W City team—called the W City Wolves on Gilbert's suggestion—Diego Rodriguez was the goaltender, Ivan Braginsky and Matthew Bonnefoy were defenders and Aryan Sharma, Kiku Honda and Jack Demhall were the forwards.
"You better not give a speech, comrade. Coach Beilschmidt's speech stirred us enough, da?" he asked, and even Ludwig nodded.
Matt shook his head. "Look out for each other, and have fun. That's what I want to say."
Ivan smiled. "Let's discuss plays now."
Nat turned to the other side, and tried to read their names on the jerseys as best as she could, but Al beat her to it. "Dukardy, Chien, Agneau, Canard, Poisson and Bison as the goaltender—Dukardy Agneau as defence, and Chien, Canard and Poisson as forwards." Next to him, his father was desperately trying to smother his laughter.
They watched as the others moved towards the benches and sat down. Referee Capricorne went to the centre playoff circle. Chien and Honda decided to take the playoff. The puck was dropped; the game began.
Honda won the playoff, passed it to Demhall. Demhall caught control of the puck, sped towards the goal. He spotted Sharma; passed. The puck rose into the air, and before it could land, Sharma sent it smacking towards the goal.
Save.
At Matt's yell, Demhall had sped forward, but Dukardy slammed into him, throwing him into the boards. Dukardy grabbed control of the puck, moved around behind the goal, and passed it to Chien.
Matt and Ivan got into position, and Honda sped back, followed by Sharma. Pissed, Demhall sped parallel to Chien, saw him get ready to pass to Poisson. He tried to intercept it, but he was too late. By then, the defence was in position, but, then again, so was the offense.
Poisson was speeding across the ice, controlling the puck with amazing technique. He saw Sharma speeding towards him; he mohawked and passed to Canard. Before Canard could get it, however, Matt body checked him, throwing him into the boards, but that wasn't enough. Dukardy sneaked in before anyone could notice, and took aim.
"Phaaannn!"
The Scottsdalers thundered as their captain scored the first goal under thirty seconds. Dukardy roared, his bellow soon muffled by his teammates jumping onto him. Matt looked at his team, called them around. "They got a goal in thirty seconds. So what?"
"So what?" Diego asked, incredulous. "Captain, they"—
"We'll score two in the next thirty. What do you say?" he asked, looking around, grinning like a possessed man. His confidence rubbed off on others, and they nodded. He turned to Diego, and flashed him a grin that contained all the sureness in the world, and Diego grinned back. "Yeah, ladies! Let's kick ass!"
Matt caught Ivan rolling his eyes as they moved towards the playoff circle. Honda and Chien again stood for the playoff. Referee Capricorne stood at the faceoff, looked at the outside players, and turned back to the two forwards. He dropped the puck, and the circus began again.
"It's so goddamn fast," Nat whispered, on her feet as she watched them speed across the ice.
"I can't even follow it," Tanu muttered, and saw as the Scottsdale—Scottsdale Falcons—players got on and off the ice. "Is that allowed?"
Al looked at what she was pointing at, and smiled a little. "That's perfectly normal."
"Cricket is so much easier than this," she whispered. "Soccer, even."
Nat didn't even bother, and continued to watch.
Matt sped in with the puck, his handling skills leaving even the Scottsdale side speechless. He manoeuvred right through their box, gritted his teeth and let 'er rip.
"Phhhaaaan!"
"Go Matt!" Nat yelled, the rush of emotions bringing goosebumps to her skin. This guy…all the players were jumping onto him, thumping him on his back and patting his cheeks. He laughed, then turned serious and moved back.
"That's risky," Al muttered, and Nat's heart jumped. "What is?"
"He's going to make all three of the forwards try for the puck…that's what it looks like from here. I might be wrong, but…that's dangerous. If they fail, they'll be open."
But the Wolves weren't going to fail. Dukardy was bringing in the puck, but Honda saw through his deke and stole the puck from right under his nose.
"Breakway!" Al whispered excitedly, and explained. "It's like this—no one's between Kiku and the goal now, except the goalkee."
Honda, Sharma and Bemhall started what had become a bit of a legend between the Wolves—their three-man random passes, abbreviated to TRP. They began shooting the puck to each other at random, following no pattern, thoroughly confusing the goaltender while keeping the players from catching up to them. Bemhall passed to Sharma, but Honda intercepted, and put the biscuit in the basket.
"Phhhhaaan!"
The roar in the stadium was deafening. The players were jumping on the ice, on each other, and Kiku's equipment saved him from being crushed by his fellow players.
"What did I tell you sickos, huh?" Matt asked, grinning.
"You said thirty. We did it in twenty five," Sharma quipped, out of breath.
"Okay, get off the ice. Put Ludwig, Acharya and Charles"—
"Captain, you're going to have to get off, too," Ivan said as they sped back to defend.
"I'm fine."
Ivan shrugged. "Think about the game, comrade."
Matt turned to Ivan, and flashed him a grin which he'd never seen on the younger man before. "Oh, I'm just getting started, Ivan."
The Falcons had underestimated the Wolves, and they upped their game. Seeing that, Matt's spirits rose even more. The real game's just starting.
And he was right.
The next nineteen minutes went in showing the brilliance of their goalkeepers—both large, strong men with an innate love for sweets and a burning desire to win. It was quite poetic, but their play was anything but. Three fights broke out, and the entire of W City—with the exception of Nat—watched as Matt threw himself at the one of the players who'd almost literally flung Ludwig into the boards, and the curse-spewing captain had to be pulled off by Ivan.
"I'm going to fucking break his"—
"Beat the der'mo out of all of them, Cap," Ivan said, quite amused by this snarling figure of their quiet, steady captain. "But right now, get off the ice. You aren't going to able to play now. Move, Cap, before you compromise the game."
With a growl, Matt got out of Ivan's hold, and thundered to the benches, sending Sakurai Takahashi onto the ice.
"Wow," Al whispered.
Nat heard him, and grinned. Alpha's got bite.
The bell signalling the end of the twenty minutes rang, and intermission was called. Al leaned over. "You want to get out of here?"
"How long?"
"Fifteen minutes. Unless you want to watch lame stuff and want to sit right here."
"That's mean."
"That's truth."
She sighed, and got up. He got up, and after a word to all of them, the two of them made their way outside.
"Can we go talk to the players now?" Nat asked.
"I think they'll be more focussed on the game now, now that they know how good or bad their opponents are."
"I thought so. What do you think? Falcons or Wolves?"
"Those Scottsdale guys have a ton of experience, Natalia," Al said. "There are some really talented guys here, but those guys have represented this state in the nationals. That's a really big thing. And three of their players are on NHL based contracts, and three more have gone to represent this country. Although guys of that calibre aren't there right now, they coach these guys when they go to Scottsdale to visit."
"I heard Uncle Tino was a pro."
"Both of them—actually, all three of them were pros. Uncle Berwald still is on a contract which he hasn't been able to get out of. Beilschmidt senior went pro when he was around Matt's age, but a guy took a crack at his leg for shooting a hat trick during a match against his town's team. He can play, but his leg troubles him if he plays for longer than ten minutes. And although that's enough, a person with Beil senior's experience…it'll be a waste to make him sit by the side. He's got a lot of names related to lightning and his eyes, but all of them…they all go back to what an utter motivation he is for his team. That guy nearly got killed when Beil senior announced he couldn't play anymore."
"What about uncle Tino?"
Al chuckled in pride. "That guy's a fantastic player. He got emotionally burned out and said 'To hell with all of you'. It was sometime around when his younger sister and her family died in a car crash. He was the fastest sonovagun on the ice. His team persuaded him to play one last game, and this was against the team Uncle Berwald was in. He played, and although he maintained he wanted to quit professionally, he decided to start an ice rink here. His sister lived her. Uncle Berwald and he got married, and Uncle Berwald quit as well. Once in a while, though, he has to go out there and—oh my freaking god."
"What?"
"See those guys there?" he asked, pointing towards a pillar where six men were standing and talking. "Those guys are really big names in hockey. I wish some of our guys catch their attention"—
"The whole team will," Nat said stubbornly. "They're going to win."
Back in the locker room, all of them were getting hell.
"Bonnefoy, this is not a one man game!" Tino yelled. "So you better look at the others when you play, damn you!"
Matt just hung his head in silence.
"Acharya, you're slacking! What was with that defence—all of you! Honda, you're going way too fast for your teammates! Beilschmidt, if you can't shoot, pass it to someone who can! I want a pure game—no stunts, no frills. Do you hear me?"
"Yes Coach!"
Tino sighed. "Having said that, I'm real proud of what you boys did—two goals in twenty five minutes. That's the way to show those birdies what the wolfpack can do."
Matt grinned as the entire team roared.
"Bonnefoy, a minute."
Matt got up, and followed Tino to the side. "This team," Tino said softly. "needs someone with a cool head on their shoulders to lead them. In the game, it's hard—you have people body checking and slamming you everywhere. Once you're revved up, it's assured that the boys will be in the same state of mind."
"They reflect my agitation."
"Exactly. So, this is my advice to you—unless you're cool and composed, don't go on the ice. I can trust Braginsky to act in your stead—he'll be as cool as a cucumber until you step in."
Matt smiled. "Ivan has more restrain than that. He's got a much more sharper head"—
"You can trust each other."
He nodded. "Yes."
"Then I leave it to the two of you. Nice call on that second goal, by the way."
Matt grinned. "Thanks, Coach."
"Now, let's go show them who's boss!" Acharya yelled, and the rest of them roared in agreement.
-x-
"Where were the two of you?" Tanu asked.
"Al saw some really famous ice hockey players and coaches outside, so he was drooling all over them," Nat said. "I was taking pictures for humiliating him later."
"Ha-ha," Al retorted as they sat down. "You're such a douche."
Nat rolled her eyes. "Best you can do?"
"The intermission was quite good, actually," Tanu said. "The choir was singing"—
"Praise be the Lord?" Al asked and Nat smirked.
"No, idiot. They composed their own song, and it was fantastic," Tanu said. "And there were some contests. It was really fun."
Nat glared at Al. "I'm never going to listen to you again."
"You're just saying that," he replied. "And"—
The roar of the crowd drowned out whatever he wanted to say. Flashing a grin at him, she jumped and yelled as well.
"You're doing that on purpose, too."
She stopped momentarily as his whisper played in her ear, his hot breath moving on her skin, raising goosebumps. His hand was on her hip, stopping her from jumping, stopping her from breathing. Abruptly, she gained her wits, and pushed him away, eyes widening when he stuck his tongue out. She glared at him, and left it at that.
Matt, Ivan, James Ferora, Kiku, Ludwig and Diego got on the ice. On the other side, Dukardy led Chien, Damian Leo, Tommy Cheval, Howard Jaguar and Bison. They moved around, and finally moved to the centre playoff circle, Honda and Chien standing for the playoff. It was clearly determined that the two respected and rivalled each other, and there was undoubted competiton between the two of them.
Capricorne dropped the puck. Honda won it this time, passed to Ferora. Ferora moved, passed to Beilschmidt, and they began passing to each other, but the others had caught up with them by the time they got into the attacking zone. Ludwig passed to Braginsky, but Dukardy intercepted and passed it to Leo. Growling, Matt slammed into Leo and tried gaining control over the puck, and in the entanglement of sticks that soon followed, the puck went flying randomly.
Braginsky and Jaguar fought for control, and Ivan had the clever idea of flashing a chilly smile towards Jaguar. The man shuddered; Braginsky grabbed the puck and let 'er rip.
He already knew it was going to be a miss; his angle was off. Still, the puck moved deeper into the attacking zone, and it was a matter of chasing it now. Braginsky sped, but didn't even see Cheval slamming into him.
Matt sped to where Ivan was, and titled his face. "Ivan! Ivan! Are you fine?"
Blood trickled from his nose which Ivan quickly rubbed off. Matt quickly held up three fingers. "How many?"
Ivan blinked. "Three, but it looks like four."
"Fucking bastards…" Matt rose, but he was too late—his team was already fighting against the Falcons like a bunch of bloody bar brawlers. He was so goddamn angry…but Ivan needed him. "Oi, comrade," Matt said quietly. "Are you"—
"Let me through," Anna Cook, the on-ice doctor from Scottsdale, moved to Ivan and checked him for injuries. "Let's get you off the ice, lad." Matt helped him up, and took him to their benches.
Capricorne called the fowl, and put Cheval on the penalty bench for five minutes with no substitute. Tino called for a timeout, and drew his players in.
"Guys, Braginsky's going to be fine—he needs a few minutes to put his head back in place, that's all," Tino said, looking at the murderous face of his players, all except Matt. "Honda, you come out. Sharma boys, you're going in. They're shorthanded, and they've lost one of their most aggressive players. Except for Dukardy, all of them are aggressive. Aryan, you're fast—you know what to do. Acharya, stick with Matt. And for crying out loud, do not let them get the biscuit in! Clear?"
"Yes Coach!"
Matt slid off to centre ice, and looked at his team. "We're on the aggressive, too. Let's show them what this wolfpack's all about."
All of them grinned belligerently, and moved to the playoff circle in the attacking zone. Aryan took the playoff against Chien. Nobody on Scottsdale knew how Aryan played, so when the lithe Indian turned aggressive, it was a shocker. Aryan snatched the puck from right under Chien's nose, and passed it to Ludwig. Ludwig took a shot, missed. Ferora, waiting for the rebound, passed it to Aryan, but he got covered by Leo at that very moment. Dukardy, a true Falcon, swooped in from practically nowhere and grabbed control of the puck. Pissed, Matt gave him chase, and it was easy, since Matt was the more agile once.
He stuck his stick in, and tried to grab the puck from him, but Dukardy's control was supreme. Matt just decided to wing it in, and struck randomly, sending the puck sliding off to the side. Even as the two of them watched, Acharya swept in, gave them both a cheeky grin, spun around them and sped off towards the attacking side.
Laughing incredulously, both Dukardy and Matt gave chase.
Acharya sped, passed to Ludwig, and there began what the Wolves called the 'Pinball Phenomena'—the puck moving wildly, furiously between players at random, made even more difficult for the Falcons to spot since they were shorthanded and couldn't defend everyone at the same time. Matt grinned inwardly.
Tino was going to fucking skewer them.
Ludwig moved from behind the goal, received the puck, and passed it quite openly to Leo. Leo was so stunned he actually yelled when Aryan stole it and shot the puck right in.
"Phhhhannn!"
Laughing diabolically, Aryan raised his head and actually howled before his teammates caught up with him and jumped all over him.
Next to Nat, Al was laughing and swearing all at the same time. "This team is nuts," he said, and yelled.
Nat grinned. She didn't know much about ice hockey, but she knew this wasn't anybody's idea of normal play.
The Falcons called a timeout, and Matt gulped. Tino was going to fry them and chop them into little, little pieces. Thankfully, the timeout was short enough for Tino to be cut short in his tirade, but Matt realized that they'd stocked back on players again.
And they all looked like mercenaries.
The next fifteen minutes were tight—Matt watched as his soaring teammates were put back on the ice as Dukardy cut right through their defence, and shot right in, with an assist from Jaguar. Sobered, the Wolves strengthened their guard, and went all out—but Bison was huge as he was talented, and he didn't let the puck get past him another time. Three times they tried, and three times they failed—before Leo got hold of the puck and made for a breakaway. All of them chased furiously, but Leo was on a roll—he tried once, missed, tried again, and roared at the sound of the horn.
Although the wolves won the playoff, the bell signalling the end of the second period brought them to a stop right in front of the goal in the attacking zone.
Matt hustled his cursing team members back to the bench, more worried about Ivan that where the game was going to go in the upcoming third period. He sighed in relief as he saw the colour come back in his comrade's face. "You alright?" he asked.
Ivan grinned wearily. "Just about. Nice game."
Matt snorted, and Tino had the same opinion. But he was hell more vocal about it.
"I shall tell this to you for the last time, ladies," Tino warned. "This isn't a bloody movie choreographed where you're assured your win. This is a game. If you fail right at the stepping stone, you're going to fall into the deep, murky waters, and god knows how long it'll take you to get out. Get serious, ladies. We're aiming to drag them in the dust—if you aren't, the bench's always there for you. Are you serious?"
"Yes Coach!"
Nat got up, and moved out of the stands and into the open. She heard them play 'Gentleman' by PSY, and grinned. She knew a guy—and a girl—who could move to that.
She settled down into one of the chairs they'd set up, and thought about designing the hoodie, but the game kept flashing before her eyes. That, and Yong Soo's dancing to Gentleman with Lili. Curious, she got up, and stuck her head in.
Yep, Yong Soo was dancing on the ice.
That guy was an unbelievably good dancer, and he took classes for it, too. His life was booked—between University, dance classes and helping out at the restaurant, he didn't have time to breath. But whatever he did, he did it cheerfully, and at that moment, he was dancing with a bevy of really beautiful women.
Suddenly, the music changed to Thriller, and everyone roared. Yong Soo grabbed hold of the mic, and spoke rather breathlessly. "How 'bout we all dance? Come on, don't be shy—up on your feet, everyone! Da-ze!" he yelled. "Now, just do what I do, 'kay? It's easy."
Nat grinned and got in. Yong Soo was also a fantastic teacher, and his easy grin and good looks all played on his charisma. And when he asked the audience to sing along, the roar didn't really surprise Nat—he could get all of them to sit, stand, shake hand and play dead as easy as pie.
As horror looks you right between the eyes
You're paralyzed.
'Cause this is thriller
Thriller at night
Al turned, and saw her there. He gestured her to join him, but she shook her head. He moved past his dad, and bounded up the steps to her. "Come on, Nat. This is fun."
She laughed, watching the others dance. "No way." She doubled over with laughter when Al did the 'Thriller Move', and he pouted. "I'm a good dancer, 'kay?"
Nat rubbed the tears from her eyes. "I didn't mean that. Everyone's doing it"—
"Except you. Come on. 'Cause this is thriller…na-na-na—Come on Nat."
Nat rolled her eyes, and raised her hands. "Can't do this."
"Do what everyone else is doing. Please, Nat."
She tried, but shook her head, embarrassed. By then, the song was done, and everyone was applauding each other.
"Aw, Natalia," Al groaned, but smiled at her. "Come on, let's go sit."
"I don't do dancing, Jones."
"Well…neither do I, but it's fun. Hey, dad."
"Where were you two?" Alice asked. "Good Lord, that's the most fun I've had in a while."
Al and Nat went to their seats, and sat down. "I wanted some air," Nat said. "Then I heard the singing."
"You should've run away while you could," Eliza commented, and turned to Alice. "You still sing off key"—
"But I have more fun than those who sing properly!" Alice said. "I want another one!"
They watched Yong Soo and his troupe dance to Hips Don't Lie—everyone started yelling for that one, and all the ladies started singing—a Spanish piece and Black or White, again by Michael Jackson. For all the enthusiasts, however, fifteen minutes was up, and they had to bid farewell to their hot Korean instructor and his troupe—harem, according to Francis—of female dancers.
The men were back on the ice, and another kind of enthusiasm filled the stands. People now clearly had favourites, and they began cheering for their players.
The lineup this time was Aryan Sharma, Ferora, Bemhall, Bonnefoy, Braginsky and Rodriguez for the Wolves, and Poisson, Canard, Chien, Dukardy, Leo and Bison for the Falcons.
The players assembled at the centre playoff circle. Aryan stood before Chien for the faceoff, and Capricorne came to them with the puck. Aryan looked up, his black eyes glinting with belligerence, looking at the ruthlessness in those amber eyes.
Capricorne held the puck out, and dropped it.
And there began the final period.
A/T: In French, Billy Capricorne becomes 'Billy Goat' and Shawn Brebis becomes 'Shawn (the) Sheep.' Get it? No? And everyone in Scottsdale has the surname of an animal (except for Dukardy, I made that up). Chien, Agneau, Poisson, Canard, Bison—Dog, Lamb, Sheep, Duck, and Bison. Reminds me of 'Old McDonald had a farm'. Well, it's in Scottsdale, just so you know. And Old McDonald's French, somehow. :\
I was so disgusted with the last chapter I didn't even want to write a bloody A/T in the beginning…I didn't like it one bit.
I'd like to think I've gotten better at this ice-hockey match writing thing…what do you think?
I felt like cramming everything into one, but my word count went over 6500, and I went wtf? So, last period's coming next. Hope you liked this one!
If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.
Love,
R. K. Iris.