(Yay for fans that encourage me. You guys are great. Oh, and excuse the lack of actual hockey action. I fail at the job of sports announcer, even when I'm making the game up.)

Hockey

Chapter two

Matt got to Russia's house on time, even with the interference of his older brother. He hoped that America knowing would pose no threat to his weekly games. But the worry was gradually fading from his mind. As he suited up for the game, his mind seemed to fill with a buzz of adrenaline, anticipating the high energy game ahead of him. Finally, he fit the helmet over his head, smacked a gloved hand against it, and skated out onto the ice.

There was Russia, suited up in his hockey gear as well, alone on the ice. Canada noticed, as he always does, that Russia did not have a helmet on. He never played with one on. Matt had never bothered to ask why, but it always intrigued him. Was Ivan that strong?

"You are a late, no?" Ivan's voice echoed around the arena, not sounding madd or accusing, only a little amused.

"Just a bit, eh. America held me up."

Russia chuckled a bit at the mention of Alfred. Ever since the Cold War, he seemed to find America endlessly amusing. Ivan started to skate back and forth without a change of expression in his ever smiling face. It almost seemed as if his feet were moving of their own accord.

"That brother of yours. He is quite a handful, da?"

Ivan and Matt always had a little chat before and after their one on one games, but Matt was feeling irked that here, at his game, his escape, his sanctuary, they were talking about Alfred. It's always about Alfred!! Well, not here, and not now.

"Let's just play." Canada growled, and lowered his head, ready for the game. Russia's smile faltered a little. Matt, growling? He never was aggressive. Not even in the game. Tenacious and not willing to give up, maybe, but aggressive? Never! Ivan smiled widely once again, skating up to center ice, as Matt did the same.

Ivan tossed the puck slightly in the air, and the two tensed. The puck spun in the air, and time seemed to still. Then, it hit the ice, and it was on!

Matt stole it away at once, and was off, skating toward his opponent's goal. This was all that mattered now. This game, and this moment. This is what he lived for, the thrill of a break away, the rushing anticipation of the game, and the sweet taste of victory when he scored. Which was about to be right---

And a body check from Ivan sent the smaller nation sprawling on the ice sideways! That's what Matt got for not paying attention to what was around him. Ivan chuckled, and stole away with the puck. Matt grimaced as he got up. He was thankful the these games were always only one on one, for he didn't think he could focus on so many players, since he didn't play with his glasses on. He left them on his pet bear, which was currently sitting out in the stands, dosing.

Matt remembered the last game he ever played with his glasses. It was about two months ago, and Matt was in the lead. The games were always a cat and mouse games between the two. Matt was speedy where Ivan was strong. Matt would steal the puck away, and Ivan would smash him into the wall. That's always how it went down. This particular day, Matt was on a roll, and he was winning 4-1. Canada was feeling pretty confident as he weaved around Russia, almost in a teasing manner. Russia, not one to take this sort of thing, slammed his shoulder into the back of the smaller nation, and sent him flying toward the wall. His head smacked against the wall, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of Germany's potatoes. Russia was already some ways away, but by a sheer stroke of luck, looked back, and saw the bright red blood. Ivan dropped his stick in shock, and raced over to where Matt was lying on the ice, sobbing his poor little Canadian heart out. The glass was embedded in his face, but none was in his actual eyes, so the wound was only superficial. Russia got all the glass out, and kind of patched him up, then Canada ran out of there as fast as he had ever run in his life. Still in his hockey pads and all, he ran straight to Big Brother France. France held him, comforting him (feeling him up), and from then on, Matt developed an unnatural fear of his very own glasses.

Canada got snapped out of his flashback-memory state by a loud angry buzzer. Apparently, while he was reminiscing, Russia had scored a goal. That's what Matt got for not paying attention! He skated off, determined not to slip off into his head again.

"Pay attention, little one!"

"Yeah, yeah…."

But Matt couldn't help it. Even as he stole the puck away for the umpteenth time, his mind was wandering to the last time Russia wore his scarf to one of their weekly hockey games.

It was quite a bit further in the past then Canada's glasses incident. Like, a year or something ago. Matt was well into the rhythm of their games. He spent most of the game chasing Russia's back, desperately waiting for an opening to take the puck away for his own. This particular game, Matt was hardcore losing. It was seriously a bad game, and Canada was already geared up for the disappointment of losing. But, ah, a chance! Russia was skating along, fast as a Russian Rocket, and his long white scarf was streaming out behind him like some sort of cape. Canada saw his chance, and did something crazy. He reached out, grabbed the scarf, and yanked with all of his maple syrup-eating strength. Russia's skates flew out from under him and he hit the ice. A deafening silence echoed through the arena. The puck slid off in some direction, unnoticed. Canada dropped the scarf that he didn't realize he was still holding, and it fluttered slowly to the ice.

"R-ru-Russia? Are you okay?"

Once again, silence. Russia's faced was screwed up in pain, and blood was seeping out from under his head. Matt gasped aloud, and slapped Ivan's face slightly, trying to get him to get up. Matt felt tears prickle at his eyes. He didn't mean to hurt Russia, only….stop him from scoring. Suddenly, Ivan's eyes flew open, and he got up. He felt the back of his head, saw the blood, and laughed lightly. Matt's eyes widened in shock.

"Just a scratch, then. You surprised me! One would think that you wouldn't resort to such violence, da?"

"….j-just a scratch? You aren't h-hurt, eh?"

"When you've lived as long as I, you learn to deal with minor injuries like this, little one. But I don't think we should continue our game. The blood, you see, it isn't safe."

And once again, Ivan had scored while Matt was off in la-la-land. Canada sighed aloud and took off his helmet. Russia skated up to him.

"Something wrong, little one?"

" ……."

"You're brother, da?"

"I don't want him to ruin this like he ruins everything else for me, eh! I bet you'll start playing with him instead of me. He's always better than I am."

Canada skated off toward the locker rooms dejectedly, his head and spirits down, dragging his stick after him. Russia's smile faded a bit, and he sneaked up behind Canada, and gave him a huge bear hug from behind, not minding the fact that the younger man was drenched in sweat.

"No one will replace you, little Matthew. Do not worry, da?"

Matt's jaw dropped and he turned beet red. Physical contact?? Russia called him Matthew?!??!

"U-uuh…"

Russia laughed, a deep sound that Canada felt through the several layers of clothing and protective padding that both of the men wore.

"I am sorry. Many people tell me that I am too…..what is word? Ahh, affectionate, da?"

Ivan let the younger man go, and he scrambled away, face still aflame, and left, not bothering to change, shower, or any of that. All he grabbed before he left was his bear, and he left his Canadian pride!sports bag. Russia chuckled again, and shook his head at the frantic, nervous nation. Then he skated lazily over around the arena, whistling a tune that was oddly similar to "O, Canada".

(For cereal, you guys have no idea how easy it is to write creepster Russia. And this chapter was just to display those two injuries that have been dancing around in my head since I had this idea. Well, I hoped you liked it. Review lots, and I'll add Alfred into the picture and he'll make a right mess of everything. Ciao~!)