Story contains a little bit of bad language, as I recall. I'll change the rating if it gets any worse in further chapters. (If you're easily offended, consider yourselves lucky, you should hear me when driving.)

This is an idea that just popped into my head, it's kinda silly and fluffy and tongue in cheek, so I'm writing it mainly to entertain myself during little breaks from writing other stories. Takes place independent of my other fics, which also take place independently of each other. JA, hints of JP. Maybe more, who knows?

Also - I know some readers are really knowledgeable about hockey. And good for you, guys, that's awesome. I, however, know little about hockey. This much. It's not even played in my country! So, although I try to keep things as straight and realistic as possible, if I use the wrong terminology or write something that doesn't quite add up? Let's just save time and remember this is fiction, and also assume that I do not particularly care. Hey, after all, I'm pretty sure 'roping' is not an actual penalty either ;)

Hope you enjoy.

Prologue

It's two periods down, one to go. Our third game of the year, and we're excited as hell 'cause we're truly kicking ass. Conway, our fearless leader, has delivered a really unnecessary speech designed to lead us to a well-earned victory, we'd all screamed appropriately, and now we filed back out to the hallway leading to the arena.

I didn't even have to tell anyone my name and where I came from.

I stopped at my locker and stripped off my soaked bandanna, tying on a fresh one.

'Hey.'

Julie Gaffney had ducked under my arm and popped up straight in front of me, behind my locker door. Nice move.

Jules was the only player dressed in her civvies. A nasty sprained foot had benched her for this game and probably the next one too. Poor girl was devastated ('But I can still catch!') but had sucked it up and assigned herself the position of unofficial assistant Coach while she was out.

'Sup, Kitty?' I chucked her under the chin. 'Ready to cheer me on?'

'Sure. Can I talk to you real quick?'

I looked at the locker room door as it swung shut behind Kenny Wu. I'm all for conversation with cute girls, but the game was calling.

I'm about to ask if we can do this later, but she's biting her lip, worried.

Julie isn't just a bona fide cutie. She's my teammate. Even a friend.

'Uh... yeah, alright. Can we make it quicker than quick?'

'I need a favor,' she stated quickly, straight to the point, staring at me. Her eyes are a really nice green but right now they have a creepy intensity.

'Shoot.' I leaned on the door, eager to get back out there and show the scouts in the crowd exactly who was dominating this game.

'It's a big one.'

Does she not realize time is a little short right now?

'Ok, spit it out, sweetheart.'

She's still hesitating. She checks again to make sure we're alone. I lean closer, getting a little fascinated in spite of the urgency.

'What is it, Jules?'

She tells me. Two minutes later, we've got ourselves a deal and I'm heading back to the ice.

Julie 'The Cat' Gaffney now owes me five favors. Five thumping big favors, and the time, place and details of these favors are to be decided at my discretion. Nice.

All I have to do now is fulfil the task I've promised her in return.

I can't help smirking as I burst out onto the ice. I take my time, wave to the crowd, making my grand entrance. They love it. I love it.

I can see Julie in the bench, next to Orion. Her cheeks are flushed. She's watching me intently.

Let's do this, Catlady.

Chapter One

Julie's POV

Saturday morning dawned bright and beautiful. The flea markets were calling my name. Cheap paperbacks and takeaway Thai food awaited.

I got up early and completed all my homework in my pajamas. Showered and dressed in jeans and a bright blue sleeveless top. Tied my hair up with a matching ribbon.

I opened the door to skip out to the bus stop and yelped as I collided with something solid.

'Oh, shit! Dean. Sorry.'

'S ok.' He smiled wide at me, hands in pockets. 'How you doin'?'

I smiled back. 'Great. So... whatcha doing this fine day?'

'Mmm...' he gestured to me to walk with him. 'I got kind of a problem.'

'What's that?'

'I'm getting pale.'

'Huh?'

He inspected his biceps critically. 'An hour playing no-shirts side on the courts should help. Maybe a little nap in the sun. Unfortunately, Mrs Bitchface Bryan is inspecting our rooms today. Me and Fult, we... live hard. Ours ain't gonna pass, and that means we're on restricted curfew.'

A feeling of foreboding entered my stomach. Oh, no. 'So...'

'So.' He stopped, leaning against the wall with a smile I knew he thought was charming.

He held up one finger.

I groaned. He had to be kidding.

He led me the whole way to his room, hands firm on my shoulders.

I think he was worried I was going to bolt.

I should have.

Favor No. 1

Portman unlocked the door to the dorm room he and Fulton shared and swung it open with a flourish.

I'd seen their room before. They kept it really dark.

Now, I could see why.

There were band posters hanging forlornly off the walls. Neither bed was made. In fact, one had no sheets at all, just a bare mattress with a crumpled blanket. Where were the sheets? Both desks overflowed with sports gear, stacks of CDs, rubbish and even the occasional lonesome book buried somewhere at the bottom.

The carpet was potentially clean. But it was so strewn with twisted clothes, soda cans, magazines and other crap that it was impossible to tell.

And it all smelled like the musky scent of sweaty boys, mixed with aftershave, covered once again with sweat and masked with heavy deodorant.

I took one step in, and clapped my hand over my mouth to hold back a gag.

'Oh, my god.'

'What?' Portman poked his head in. 'I sprayed for you.'

'Sprayed what?'

'Lynx Africa. What, you want more?'

I turned to him. The horror of being stranded in this pit of filth must have shown on my face, because he started chuckling.

'Do not leave me here.'

He smiled wide. Held up the one finger again. Waggled it teasingly at me.

And shut the door.

Before I could sink to the floor and sob, the door swung open again.

'Oh, my laundry's in the gym bag. Well, some of it. And Fulton's is... y'know, around.'

'You expect me to do your laundry?'

He grinned wide as he closed the door. 'Don't forget the fabric softener, princess.'

Portman's POV

I had to hand it to the lovely Miss J when I returned to the dorms.

She'd taken the task of Favor No. 1 to heart.

I'd never seen our room so clean since the day we'd taken it over, and probably not even then.

Our posters were taped up straight and even. The beds were made up with fresh sheets, smoothed out with that hotel perfection. There was a neat stack of clean laundry on the end of each bed. The blinds were raised high on the sparkling window. We actually had a decent view of the quad, I realized for the first time.

I sniffed a t-shirt critically. She'd remembered the softener. Good girl.

Hey, I like a baby-soft cotton as much as the next badass.

There was nothing but carpet on the floor. It looked freshly vacuumed. Where the hell had she found a vacuum? Was there one available for our use somewhere? Huh.

I checked out our little bathroom. The floor tiles were bare of clothing. The shower was gleaming. The shampoo and soap lined up neatly. It smelled lemony fresh.

'Amazing...'

I took the opportunity to trial the shower, then dressed in some clean shorts and flopped down on my perfectly smooth bed with a Sports Illustrated from the neat stack on my bedside table.

I could get used to this.

The door opened.

'Hey, Portman, we totally forgot the inspection-'

I hid a smirk as Fulton entered slowly to survey the sparkling wonderland that we now called home.

'Dude! You cleaned?'

I shrugged modestly, flipping a page. 'We suck at curfew, brother.'

'Whoa! Look at this place... is that laundry? You did my laundry?' My roomie was going to catch flies if he didn't shut his mouth soon. 'Oh man, are you serious? Should I just marry you now?'

'Not until you start putting out, bitch.' I slid down on the bed comfortably, basking in the praise like a lizard in the sun.

'Wow, man, this is incredible. Did it take you long?'

'It took awhile, yeah.'

'Shit, this is awesome. No, not shit!' Fulton flopped on his own bed. He beamed at me like a kid on Christmas morning. 'Sheets!'

'Only the best, bro.'

'Where'd you get 'em?'

'Classified. Can't tell you that.'

It was true. I couldn't tell him that, seeing as I had no answer where Jules had scored the new sheets from.

'Thanks, dude.' Fult smiled wide, reached over with a fist to bump mine. 'Love your work.'

We both relaxed back in the new luxury.

'No problem, man. You know it's your turn next time, though.'

'Oh, for sure.' Fulton was quick to agree. 'Fair's fair.'

Julie's POV

I immediately got back in the shower when I returned to my room, over two hours after I'd left with high hopes of a sunny Saturday morning.

I had to shower.

I felt unclean.

I tried not to think about the things I'd seen.

The fact that I had handled Dean Portman's unwashed clothing. All. Of. It.

The more disturbing fact that I hadn't found any underwear at all on Fulton's half of the room. That mental image was hard to shake.

Under the beds... my brain tried to just shut down.

The magazines.

The rotten apple that had squished under my fingers.

The tissues. Oh, god. The tissues.

I used half a bottle of body wash. I even re-washed my hair.

As I was towelling off, there was a knock on my door.

Oh, no. It was him. No way was I going back there.

I considered pretending I wasn't home. I tucked the towel around myself and paused behind the door. '... Dean?' I called hesitantly.

There was a moment of silence. 'Uh, no. It's Adam.'

Thank god. Without thinking, I threw open the door in relief.

'Hi.'

'Afternoon...' Adam Banks was waiting outside my door, tall and athletic in sweats and a perfectly taut t-shirt. He smiled at me quickly, then his gaze moved politely away.

'Oh.' I looked down at my towel. Wow. Smooth move, Gaffney. 'Sorry. I just got out of the shower,' I explained unnecessarily.

'No, that's fine. I... I figured that.'

I closed the door a little for modesty, although it was probably too late. 'So... um, what's up?'

' I'm just heading out for a run. I thought I'd stop by and see if you're up for it.'

Fresh, clean air. A good long run. Adam Banks.

'Actually, that would be... awesome. Give me two minutes?'

Adam nodded. 'Sure. I'll go warm up.'

He smiled at me over his shoulder as he headed outside.

Caution. Spending too much time in the nasty fug of the Bash Brothers' domain can cause severely limited brain capacity, resulting in opening the door to one of the cutest guys in school in your towel oh dear god Julie...

I pulled on gym shorts and a navy tshirt and sneakers, pulled my damp hair up into a ponytail and jogged out to join Adam.

Despite the disgusting morning, maybe this Saturday wouldn't be a total write-off after all.

Adam was stretching out, one hand on the brick wall of the dorm building. I tapped his back playfully and jogged straight past. It felt good to stretch my legs.

He took up the challenge and caught up to me fast. We headed towards the track together. We'd jogged together a few times recently, and usually went for distance rather than speed. Today, though, I needed to move, and I made Adam keep up with me.

'Running away, or towards?' he asked me after a minute with a teasing smile.

'Away. Definitely away.'

He shot me a questioning glance, but I just grinned and put on an extra burst of speed.

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