Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your chest hurts. Your eyes were tired and dry. Laying on your bed you felt like you were falling backwards, in a perpetual state of sinking. The sensation hurts your head very much. You knew that it wouldn't be like this forever, but it had been 4 years and you still broke down at the faintest memory of him. Your dorm room had bare walls painted a bright hospital white. The walks were cracking from the corners of your floor creating spindles of black. Your boxes were strewn around you unopened and stacked, you hadn't found the energy to unpack yet. Your small pile of snacks sat on your desk reminding you again of your stupid freak out!

Just two hours ago you were buying groceries and listening to Pinegroove. The fluorescent lights stung when you looked up so you stared at the well-stocked shelves. Deciding between fruit loops or mini wheats felt like an impossible decision. You used to fight over these cereals with your brother... but he's not here anymore to argue for mini wheats sooooo. <\p>

You decide to get fruit loops. On your way to checkout, you see a mom and son deciding between which soda to get. The little boy looked just like your brother, decked out in hockey gear, missing one of his front teeth and grinning from ear to ear.

You stopped and stared for too long, as a gruff voice woke you up from your trance "Fucking move, don't just stand in the middle of the store with your big ass basket fucking blocking everything." He grumbled as he began to move past you.

You shift your eyes to the man and quickly move yourself out of the way. He was built like a tank, with broad shoulders, well taller than 6 feet, and a sure amount of strength behind his silly presidential crew neck. He had absurd mutton chops and dumb facial hair, but it somehow suited him. His face wasn't crafted by the gods but he was handsome, just not in the Calvin Klein model way. In the basic instinct say this man is powerful way? It was hard to explain.

His eyes glance over you and he frowns as he rushes past you. His basket consisted of Bud Light, Jack Daniels, and microwave popcorn. Maybe he's having it worse than you? The boy and the mom have disappeared when you look back and you silently thank mutton chops for breaking you out of that hypnosis. You feel a couple of warm tears on your cheeks and hurriedly wipe them off, you thought you would be over this, but that is why you moved here. To try new things, to get away from home, and regain the love of hockey you once had.

Back in your bed you sit up. You need to get over these hang ups, and the season opener was tonight. You should meet the team and say hello to Phil. You hadn't seen the coach in five years and were pretty nervous. <\p>

Phil had coached your brother when he was young and you and Phil had always been friends. Phil would let you yell the game plan to the team and talk strategy during timeouts. You had a lisp back then because of your retainer and Phil would always smile when you said 'lets go!'.

You asked Phil to let you help the team to try and get over your phobia of hockey. He said yes and you applied to Syndicate University, which happened to be one of the best hockey schools in the country. You were pursuing a humanities degree, unsure of what you wanted to be yet. You put on some blush, mascara, and tinted lip balm and threw on an oversized hoodie to match with your wide-leg cargo pants. The walk to the rink was 15 minutes from your dorm which was not bad, the fall weather was being super kind to you.

Coloured leaves dotted your path and couples cozying with coffee on benches sat along the sidewalk. You knocked on Coach Phil's door,
"Come in!" He shouted.

Creeping in slowly, you offered him a shy smile. He looked so similar to back then. He wore the same bucket hat and earrings. His hair had grown longer and he had a goatee now which suited his aging face well. He gave you a big smile but his eyes seemed sad, almost pitying.
"Long time no see!" He says standing up and giving you a hug. It had been a long time since you've hugged someone, you really welcomed the gesture. You squeeze him back, absorbing the familiarity of him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, letting you take the time you need. He smells like fresh linen, pine, and home.

"Hi Phil." You break apart from his warm embrace slowly. He is hesitant to let you go as you take a couple of steps back.

"It's nice to see you after all this time, I was surprised to get that email. I'm sorry to hear about your brother, he was a really good kid. I can't imagine the grief you and your family have been through, but I'm here to help however I can." He states eyeing your fidgeting fingers.

"Yeah we are okay, thanks for letting me come help with the team." You respond softly, eying your sneakers and the scuffed floor, not used to Phil's unwavering eye contact. You remember thinking it made so much sense he was a hockey coach because he had ice-blue eyes, toddler you thought it was written in the stars.

"Of course." He smiles "Do you want to meet the boys? They should be getting ready in the locker room. I was just finishing some paperwork for our new players, let's introduce you to them!" You nod as you scratch your palm nervously, clasping your hands.

"I know that this will be an emotional start, but if you ever need a breather you can leave no questions asked. I'll also be here to help every step of the way." He talks as you go through the tunnel into the locker room. The familiar musky scent of the arena fills you, he used to love this. He would like to know that you're trying again. Phil talks more but you don't listen to it. Your head was elsewhere, your thoughts tend to wander these days.

"Andddd here we are." Phil opens the door. You stumble into the locker room. "Guys this is the new assistant coach I've been telling you about! She used to be a vicious strategist when I coached junior league and she truly knows the game like the back of her hand." You blush at his praise, unsure if you will really live up to the hype. Phil had asked you before if he should tell the team your reasons for coming and you pleaded he didn't as you really didn't want pity from the players.

You scan the team, all of them had their eyes glued to you, stopped in the motions of tying skates and putting on jerseys. Your eyes stop on a familiar face... MUTTON CHOPS!! That is so fucking embarrassing, can't believe you were crying in the middle of a grocery store and one of your fucking players saw you. He stares you down, the frown from before stained onto his face.

"Nice to meet you! My name is Quackity, I play left winger, and I love long walks on the beach." He shouts with a huge grin. You let out a soft laugh at his joke.

"Hello I'm Wilbur, I'm a right winger." Says the lanky athlete with curly brown hair and round glasses, a strong British accent lacing his words.

"I'm Schlatt. Left defensemen." Mutton chops mutters gruffly. The team introduces themselves and their positions quickly as they finish putting their gear on.

"It's really nice to meet you guys, I hope to understand how you play as quickly as possible so I can help Phil. You guys did so well last season. I think I may have more to learn from you then I can teach hahaha." You look at the ground as you compliment them with your weak praise. "And get to know you too as people!" You add afterwards, why did you always make social interactions unnecessarily awkward??

A couple of them snort at you and stand up. They really were an imposing team. They got third last year in nationals and with a couple of their new recruits they are a really favourable pick for first or second place this year. They received the speedy and small Tommyinnit who had been destroying high school hockey since he was 14. Tommy could weave his way through entire teams and still make his shots at the end. And they got Sapnap, an unmovable object on the ice, to help in defence. The seniors like Techno, Schlatt, Wilbur, and Quackity were all being scouted by the NHL and this would probably be their last season playing university hockey. Their energy was intense, they were the best and they knew it. They were strong, and they knew it. Hockey players have had that sort of arrogance you hated since you met them in the junior league.

The team towered over you as they stood up and passed you by the door to start warmups. You felt small in the same room as these handsome and too-talented hockey players. Did you belong here?

The boys started their warm-ups sprinting up and down the ice and shooting on our goalie Sam. You were in awe of the grace they moved across the ice with. It had been a long time since you had been so close to the rink. The air was cold and crisp and smelled new. The energy was high, the players were focused and happy, and you were happy. You liked being here, you liked to be next to Phil. Your brother would've loved to be on this team.

You open up your purse to take a photo of the team for your mom when a coin rolls out of your bag and onto the ice. Okay, who left the fucking gate open? Probably me... was it my job to close it? You get on the ice and start sliding your feet to grab the coin, it was close enough... You hear somehow skating towards you FAST, oh what the fuck. His eyes are fixated on the puck as he charges towards you. He sees you immediately and makes a split-second decision. He swiftly maneuvers his body, using his outstretched arm to grab hold of your waist, saving you from crashing into the ice. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of both of you.

"What the fuck are you doing on the ice dumbass! We are fucking practicing and not looking out for little girls! I was looking at the shitty puck I couldn't stop!!" He has his hand on your lower back and tightens his grip as you breathe softly into his ear. Your head is on his chest, he didn't want your head to hit his hard helmet or ice. That New York accent and rough voice were too familiar.... of fucking course!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking my head was elsewhere." You push on his torso trying to get up but immediately stop. You don't want to put your entire body weight on him after you just knocked him over! You noticed how your entire body fit on top of his, how impressive the sheer size of him was. He sees the concern on your face.

Eyeing your hesitation he lets out a scoff "You won't hurt me. I don't think you could if you tried, and baby you just did.." You get off him, reminding yourself that he is a fucking tank and defenseman for one of the best university hockey teams in the country. You steady yourself with the rink wall leaning against it. Phil blew the whistle as soon as he noticed your crash and you prayed the other guys didn't see.

"I'm sorry, I just wasn't thinking. I'm not normally like this, this is a really really bad first impression." You say softly so only Shlatt can hear. He rolls his eyes as you offer him a hand up, standing up on his own. He towers over you and begins to slide towards you.

"Have you ever been to a fucking hockey practice? What the fuck was that?" You step back into the rink wall gripping the railing. He is leaning over you, this tension combined with yelling from authority is something you try to avoid at all costs as you physically can't handle it. He traps you, glaring at you intensely and the lights hurt your head and your brother and people watching and Phil's disappointment… It’s too much.

"I-i.." you start but can't talk as your throat dries up and you know raising your voice would open a floodgate of tears.

"Dude, chill out it was just a mistake. Let her be. She knows." Wilbur steps in between you and Schlatt. You look back over to Schlatt. He looks angry and confused but saddens when he looks into you. Your eyes are glossed over and you're biting your lip so it won't quiver.

“Thanks guys, I’ll be b-back for the second period. Sorry again..” You awkwardly slide off the ice ignoring the stares of the team and actively avoiding Phil’s pitying gaze. Schlatt feels the urge to stop you from leaving. To grab your wrist and make you look at him, to understand what had happened. But he had a dingus in his fucking way.

“Wilbur what the fuck it was fine I was fucking handling it! I literally saved her from being fucking concussed.” Schlatt glares at Wilbur.

“You were being way too harsh Schlatt, you crossed the line! You didn’t need to yell at her. She's a grown person and she understands what happened. You were just being cruel.” He retorts.

“I WAS BEING CRUEL? I LITERA-” Phil’s whistle cuts Schlatt off before their fight becomes physical. Schlatt is not known for handling his anger well which is great for playing other teams, but not so great for his teammates.

“Everyone just finish one more round of 2v2s and get over here. The sharks are gonna be here any minute.” He shouts with no obvious anger in his words. Schlatt huffs and steps back from Wilbur as they retreat back to their warm-up.

Chapter Text

"A retreat???" Your eyes widen and your mouth is agape as you stare at Phil. His eyes hold the familiar glint of care and playfulness you had seen your entire life.

"Every year we gather up the boys to bond in the woods the weekend before school starts!! The new recruits get to know the older guys and there's trust exercises and scary stories. It's fun and a tradition, which means you're coming." Phil spoke so articulately, you can't help but envy someone that is so sure in their words. Maybe you'll get there in a couple years.

"Yeah but I'm unpacking and pre-studying for my courses and-" You plead with him trying to get yourself out of this situation. You hadn't spoken to or seen the team since the whole falling-on-ice-causing-a-scene-debacle. Anytime you thought about checking in a heavy ball of shame and embarrassment filled your stomach. Just-girly-things I guess.

You know you're being selfish. You were supposed to be helping Phil and all but you just needed some time... And instead of time, Phil wants to throw you into the wolves den and go on a bonding camping trip?? He must be out of his mind.

"We are leaving tomorrow morning at 6 AM and will be back Sunday at 8. Pack warmly, it looks like a cold front might hit. I expect to see you there as an assistant coach." He spoke sternly but smiled like he was telling a classic joke to an old friend. Why does he find your pain so silly!!

"I-" There was no point in arguing, "Ok, I'll see you then." You sighed and quietly shut the door to his office. Your footsteps echo through the empty hallway. You hear skates sliding on the ice and yelling muffled through the concrete wall. Your feet guide you to the rink and you find a seat in the farthest row from the ice.

They were a really well-coordinated team. Hockey used to look like a random chance to you, the puck just seemed to float from one person to another and goalies seemed to stumble slightly to the left to save a shot, but the more you learned about it the more impressive it was.

You needed an insanely good sense of your surroundings and game sense. You had to be constantly aware of what was going on, where the puck was, where your team was, who was open, and what the other team was doing.

You needed strength and fast reflexes. You had to push your way through brutes and lock people into the boards. You had to catch the puck in your stick in just half a second when receiving an unexpected pass. The coordination and skill they possessed were intimidating and beautiful. You would never admit it to someone but the sheer testosterone that a hockey rink held was insanely attractive. The fighting, the unkept looks, the yelling and strength… You have grown to love it.

So yes, maybe you had a tiny baby thing for hockey players. Of course, all the players you knew when you were younger were friends with your brother, and that was a no-go. After he died you ignored hockey players altogether not wanting to garner sympathy and bring back old feelings of despair.

The players in front of you now were a different breed from your junior hockey days. These guys were naturally athletic and had been cultivating their skills since age 6. NHL prospects that could kill you with one false swoop.

You admired the way they played.

You heard they destroyed the other team a few days ago. Apparently, Schlatt was thrown in the penalty box twice and was way too aggressive that game, but it served the Syndicate well.

You were kinda upset with him. Of course, you made a mistake, but he had no reason to act so dickish. He yelled at you for way too long and got way too close for a small mistake. No one was hurt! He did not need to berate you with insults as you cowered into the wall. He did not need to speak warmly into your ear and send shivers down your spine. Very uncool of him.

No matter how many times you ran into him, no matter how the silly fates played you, you were not going to give the asshole any more thought. Fuck the fairy fates.

Your eyes drifted to Schlatt. He easily maneuvered the puck between Tech and Wilbur's defense. His whole being was entirely focused on the game. He was a big guy perfect for defence: broad shoulders, tall, scruffy-looking facial hair, brooding eyes, and so much anger.

You couldn't handle him focusing his intense frustration on you for 10 seconds, so you definitely couldn't imagine intentionally doing him any wrong... The repercussions!!! What would he be like when he was seriously mean? What would he do? you shutter at the thought.

Nonetheless, if he was a dick you would tell him so… You wouldn't let the fear of his anger stop you from being honest… Right?

The team started to pack up. Gathering water bottles, taking off helmets, and slowing down. It was the end of practice. It was officially time for you to rush out, unseen and unheard. You quietly speed walk to the exit keeping your footsteps light and your breath soft. The exit was in view.

5 more steps.

Four more steps.

Three more steps.

Two mo-

"Hey!! Coach!" The loud New Yorker shouts interrupting your perfect escape... Well almost perfect.

"I'm just heading out." You say not turning around, silently hoping you would blend into the background and disappear if you stood still enough.

"Uhhh yeah just hold up for a second I'll walk you out." He stumbles over, hair dishevelled and hockey bag on his shoulder. How did he get changed so fast?

You look up at him waiting for a reason, why is he talking to you? Your eyelashes are pushing onto your brow bone and your pupils dilate as you look up. It's hard to squint and glare when making eye contact with someone a foot taller than you, trust me.

He was wearing an athletic black long sleeve shirt and sweatpants. The long sleeve was too loose to be a compression shirt but was soo tight in the right places. His biceps looked huge, his shoulders and traps were looking amazing, his chest was clearly defined. I guess he was still handsome. Sigh.

You felt smaller in your dumpy looking outfit. A funny baggy tee that was three sizes too big which read 'Fantasy football league' and had real fantasy football league team names on the back like 'monkey butts' and 'Willard's thongs'. You got it for like two dollars at the thrift store and simply needed sleep shirts!!

"I-I well Phil said I should apologize for yelling at you and stuff and of course, I was like 'I didn't fucking do anything it was that dumb broad's fault!' But maybe I might've gone too far because he made me do fucking sprints for two practices straight for just yelling at you which I think is fucking dumb but, I'm afraid of what he'll do if I don't apologize. That was shit but sorry I guess sweetheart." He says his statement quickly like he was held at gunpoint. He jumps over his words and mutters some, but there was definitely an apology in there. Hockey boys are sadly not the best communicators.

"Oh uh well that's good. Thanks for the apology." You say softly staring at the ground trying to keep pace with his long legs. The cracks of the sidewalk remind you that you are walking forward as you focus on your feet. Your shoes are more inviting than his harsh stare. You glance up, he is staring ahead and not at you, a pensive expression rests on his face.

You notice a couple of voices come closer. You decide to fill the silence.

"I was a little upset that you yelled at me but I totally understand your anger-" The incoming strangers’ booming voices took over yours.

"I know but there's no way it's natural. Have you seen them?? They are way too symmetrical and round to be natur-'' The guy moves over to the left to express with his hands exactly how symmetrical these things were. In the process, he completely loses focus and blocks your path. His body rams into your chest and you stumble backwards slightly. Classic case of guys not moving out of the way because women are expected to. Sigh.

The friends look at you and seem disinterested but after a glance over your shoulder, they mutter a fast apology before speed-walking away. You stutter through your words as you try to remember what you were saying. As much as you'd hate to admit it people running into you happens all the time. You just be in your own world vibing to some music and boom guy slams his shoulder into yours in the hallway.

Your eyes dart to Schlatt. He has a white knuckle grip on his bag and eyes narrowed as he looks over you. His hands were so large, probably warm too. You imagined what they would feel touching you. How rough his touch would be, how strong it would be. After a couple of moments, you break the silence.

"Don't be mad I was only a little upset about you yelling and stuff. It's no big deal, we are good." You offer him a smile as you start walking again, assuming his sudden change in mood was related to what you were saying before.

"No I wasn't mad at that... Why would you? Never mind whatever." His tone changed, irritability laced his words. Why was he mad? Schlatt rolls his shoulders and exhales sharply. He glowers at every person we walk by.

As you walk beside him, you feel his change in mood radiate through the air. A part of you found his intensity incredibly alluring, but another part of you urged caution. You feel the magnetism of his anger, and you wondered how it might manifest in other situations. How his intensity could benefit you... But you also wondered how little it would take to make him snap.

"Are you excited about the retreat?" You ask suddenly, trying so hard to have small talk with the brute.

"Fuck no. I mean yeah, but I hate it. My first year Sam literally fucking dropped me during the trust fall and I had mud on me all fucking weekend." You giggle at the idea and a real smile forms on your face.

"It's gonna be the last one I fucking go to so yeah I'm excited, soon all of Phil’s shit will be over." He looks down at you, his eyes glance over your face, you see the trace of a smile grace his lips. You love Phil to death, buuuut it makes sense these grown men wouldn't want to camp and participate in bonding activities together every year.

"That's good. I'm a little nervous. I've never been camping and I don't really know anyone but Phil. It'll be nice to get to know the team though. Also good for me to leave my dorm and get some fresh air too. I feel like I’ve seen 20 episodes of New Girl in the past two days alone." You ramble, trying to convince yourself more than Schlatt. He doesn’t even smile at your joke.

"Yeah I guess." He says. You walk in silence the rest of the way to your dorm. People stare at you as you walk with the burly man. Is the hockey team a big deal on campus? It would make sense knowing how successful they are, the stadium was half full last game and that was just a practice game before the season started.

"Thanks. This is me. I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning?" You give him one last look over. This was a weird walk full of eye contact and unspoken words. He hesitates at your goodbye. He looks like he wants to do something, to say something. You wanted him to stay close. You wanted to keep smelling the fresh linen and pine smell he exuded. You would rather be murdered brutally and gagged and forced into a early grave than tell him that though.

"Yeah. See you." His eyes look confused as he leaves you there. If only he could communicate with you like he checks strangers into plexiglass... If only. He turns around leaving you to go inside and pack.

You packed a couple of big sweaters, a pair of jeans, some old pjs, a tank top, your fall coat, and some casual bras. You listened to some shit Midwest emo and Phoebe Bridgers singing your heart out to the mopey songs.

You downloaded "To All The Boys I've Loved Before" and "13 Going on 30" to watch at night or on the bus. You laughed at the thought of the team curled up watching romcoms on your broken Ipad. So what if you laugh to yourself in your own room, if you can’t make yourself laugh then you're doomed when trying to make others laugh!

You wondered if Schlatt ever made himself laugh in his room. You had a hard time imagining him giggling to a one-liner he said while kicking his feet. Unfortunately, you had thought about him over the past two days more than you’d like to admit. You couldn't quite place what about him had you so transfixed.

Laying on your bed you let out a big breath. Sighing as you sank into your blankets, relinquishing the stress of the day you closed your eyes.

That night you dreamed of him.

You imagined him handling your body. You felt the ghost of his hands grip your hips. He spoke to you softer, kinder.

"So good for me sweetheart. So perfect looking at me from down there." He whispered into your ear. The sensation of his warm breath tingled your ear and sent shivers down your spine. Your hands gripped the beige sheets.

He handled you so well. His hands traced your body leaving no part untouched. He placed a trail of soft kisses from your ear, neck, chest, and stomach. Your skin burned at each point of contact, begging for more. Why was he leaning away?

You needed more. His touch was gentle, holding you like he could break you at any second. It was too gentle. You wanted him to grip you like he was about to lose you.

His kisses were light, he was teasing you. You wished he would kiss you like he was going to die tomorrow. He was not starved for touch and intimacy like you, he was taking his time. You were letting out soft moans but they soon turned into begging pleas.

'Please..'

But this wasn't him. It couldn't be. He would be rough and brutish. He wouldn't treat you like a god, whispering words of worship into you. This dream was the embodiment of desire. You wanted more, you desired him, you needed him. You wished he would speak kindly to you and only you. You wish he would take control of you. You wish he would destroy you.

You woke up in a cold sweat.

Ok.

So it was definitely time to take your distancing and hating him a step further. You were not gonna fall for the first hockey player you met. You weren't gonna fall for any! You were here to find yourself and help Phil.

No boys.

Fate can play silly little games but you are stronger than Fate. You will find some other guy to take your mind off it all. You will be a strong independent woman. No asshole, dick, stupid, tiny, hockey players for you!

You grab your bags and let the cold air greet you as you walk towards the bus. Syndicate hockey team retreat here you come.

Chapter Text

Water bottle? Check.

Clothes? Check

Snacks for the road? Check

Jacket? Check

Ipad? Check

Headphones? Check

Toothpaste & brush? Check

Hairbrush? Check

Chapstick? Check

Deodorant? Check

Flashlight? Check

You hauled your backpack over your shoulders, stumbling back as you adjusted to the new weight. Just two nights in the woods with a bunch of college boys... What could possibly go wrong?

The wind felt harsh as you stepped outside, causing you to bury your chin inside your coat. This would be okay, you reassured yourself

The trees on campus had started fading into a comfy red and orange collage. Change in foliage was one of your favourite natural occurrences, tied up there with pretty colour gradients in sunsets.

After becoming a painting of beautiful colours the leaves always fall, like how the sun sets after creating hues of pink and orange. They were only as beautiful as their impending disappearance. You were grateful for the pop of colour especially when remembering the looming grayness of winter.

The walk was peaceful. You silently enjoyed the trees and quiet emptiness that only existed early in the morning. The breeze shifting through the sky and created a peaceful ambience. It was nice change of pace from the usual sounds of student murmurs on this path.

As you approach, you see the team loading a bus with tents and sleeping bags. Phil is holding a clipboard and diligently checks off items while he discusses with Tommy that he cannot bring his switch.
"But Philllll!!" The young athlete pleads "I need it!! It is simply not a want. The new Zelda JUST came out; if I don't play TONIGHT, I will die. It's only been out for like 24 hours and I preordered it 2 months ago!!! Pleaseeeee, let me bring it. Just this one time?" Tommy begs, jutting out his lower lip.

"Mate, I told you no screens allowed on the trip. It's just one weekend Tommy. Ask the other guys how fast the time flies, it'll feel like we never left." Phil calmly retorts, taking the switch from Tommy's defeated grasp.

You decided to keep your iPad a secret for now.

"Oh hey, coach! Let me get that for you." You feel your shoulders lighten as a familiar British accent serenades your ears. British accents are so mfffmfgg. Turning around you offer a welcoming smile to the taller man. Wilbur's height wasn't imposing like Schlatt's, he seemed more dorky than scary.

Wilbur was dressed in a long brown overcoat that matched well with his pleated maroon sweater and black jeans. Oval glasses adorned his face paired with a beanie that rested on his curls. Was he overdressed, or were you underdressed?

"You really don't have to Wilbur." You start but he's already loading your bag into the bus.
"We can't have pretty girls carrying heavy bags. What else are us hockey oafs for but manual labour?" He returns, smirking as a blush crept on your face.

Wilbur was far from an oaf. He was clever, lean, undeniably handsome and not to mention insanely bright. Despite his coach's reservations he decided to go to law school next year and leave hockey behind.

"I-" You try to gather your thoughts.

"Leave her alone you weirdo! She's only been here for like 20 seconds." Quackity shouts from inside the bus, giggling with his friends.

You find a seat in the back of the bus. Cozying up by a window and putting in your earbuds. It was only 6:30 am and you were more than happy to welcome the wave of drowsiness that just crashed over you.

Your mom used to drive you and your brother around to lull you asleep.

The soft hum of the engine, the bumpy road, and distant chatter from the team all blended together and you felt your eyes shut instinctively. You drifted off into a peaceful sleep engulfed in familiar comforts.

You didn't see Schlatt stutter through his sentence when he noticed you sleeping.
You didn't see him stare at you until Sam broke his concentration by nudging his shoulder.

Z
Zzzz
Zz
Zzzz
Zzzzzzz
Zzz
Zz
Zz
Zz
Z

"We're here!" Phil shouts, shattering your tranquillity. You jolt up from your nap.

'Mmmmmm' You mumble, wiping your eyes and stretching your neck.

You had arrived at the destination - the middle of nowhere. Towering pine trees surrounded you and a crisp breeze nipped your nose as you left the bus. With each step, the dirt road kicked up dust, and you realized your white sneakers were a bad call. Every inch of green was covered in morning dew that brushed on your ankles.

"Hey, coach!" Quackity calls, capturing the attention of both Phil and you.

"Oh this might get confusing, we need a nickname for you!" Quckity exclaims grinning.
"How about… uh... well we really don't know that much about you." Starts Technoblade, beginning a brainstorm you did not want to hear.

"I can give you a whole play-by-play on me tonight over fire and food." You interrupt him "But for now let's bring all this stuff over and start bonding yeahhh gooo team!" The team stifles some laughs at your fake enthusiasm and begins unloading the gear. You did not want any more attention on you then necessary.

You reach to get your bag but Wilbur's fast grubby hands were there before you could grab it. Well… Not that grubby. The man was undeniably pretty, his long sharp fingers included.

Deciding not to argue with him, knowing it would be a useless feat, you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fucking lawyers.." You mumble. He smiles at your reaction, you feel blood rush to your face at his victory smirk. You wonder if he ever loses anything...

Joining in on carrying the sleeping bags to the campsite area you saw the site. You discovered a large fire pit, several picnic tables, a couple of port-a-potties placed farther away, and some grills.

The tents were set up without much difficulty, well everyone but Tommy.

"No you idiot! The pole does NOT go there; it ONE HUNDRED PERCENT goes into the other hole." Sapnap attempts to grab the poles out of the agile teen’s hands.

"But look this is closer to this one and the different colours are how you make a set, prick! I'll show you what goes into holes!" Tommy replies, raising his voice, giggling at his joke.

"Tommy, why the hell would orange not go with orange and black with black??" Sapnap yells, clearly exasperated.

"Because it's matching opposite sets duh. Like yin and yang, they need to be balanced. One orange with one black and one black with one orange!!!" Tommy rolls his eyes like he's saying the most obvious thing ever.

"Tommy I swear to" Sapnap looks like he’s about to strangle the poor kid.

"Fellas! Here let me handle it." You maneuver in between them and easily sort the poles into their correct places before a fight breaks loose.

"Sorry, you can't handle big man philosophy.." Tommy mutters, unable to not have the last word. You giggle to yourself at his childish behaviour.

The team gathers to eat packed pb&js for lunch. As they split up into groups around the site, you find yourself alone with Phil. The team seems content idling chattering with one another. The newbies are easily making friends with the veteran players, laughing at Tommys mishaps.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask Phil, “So what do you have planned next?” A wide grin spreads across his face.

— — —

 The team is gathered in front of Phil's janky obstacle course.

“It’s time for today’s only bonding activity: a blindfolded obstacle course! Phil announces. “I’m sure you guys remember last year's winners: Tech and Wilbur.” The team lets out a few claps and hollers, “We will be randomly drawing names again, so quit making secret deals with one another.” He adds jokingly, chuckling at himself.

“This year’s prize is a surPRIZE, but trust me, it’ll be worth your while. The prize will be given during tomorrow’s fire ceremony. The rules are simple...”

Your heart rate quickens as Phil starts drawing names. The game involved you going through an obstacle course; full of cones to weave through, bars to duck under, boxes to climb, and rope to jump over.

Blindfolded.

You already had shit coordination as it was, and throwing a blindfold over your favourite sense was not going to help. Your partner was supposed to guide you over the obstacles telling you what to do, but you didn’t know these guys! It was only natural for you to be anxious, to not trust them completely.

As Phil calls out names, his voice becomes lost in a blur of white noise and echoes. Sometimes anxiety takes control, rendering you powerless. You scan the crowd until your eyes meet Schlatt’s; he walks towards you.

“I swear to god the old man fucking did this on purpose.” He says half-jokingly, his brash New York accent was right next to your ear.

“Phil did have a mischievous look in his eye when I asked him what we were doing today.” You add, fueling Schatt’s conspiracy as you observe everyone's pairings.

“I don’t think we’ll do that well in this Schlatt. I can’t imagine a worse pairing than us.” You confess, looking up at him. Unfortunately, you can't help but notice how intoxicating he smells– strong sandalwood cologne, a lingering tobacco smell, and fresh linen.

“If we fail it’ll be your fucking fault. I’m crazy at this, I should've won last year but Quackity was being an idiot,” he says with obvious disdain, a smile still on his face.
Ok note to self, he’s extremely competitive.

“Any advice for first-timers?” You ask genuinely, hoping to calm your racing heart.

“Just don’t hesitate and listen to me. If you hesitate, we lose.” He gruffly replies, running a hand through his long brown hair before readjusting his silly baseball hat. “I’m not gonna fuck you over.”

You consider his words, ignoring how the pit in your stomach had disappeared and been replaced with a fuzzy feeling. He's right. There were literally no stakes, you would be fineeee.

The groups take turns completing the course. Tommy and Sam completed the course in a legendary 5 minutes, a new team record. Tommy was failing miserably at communicating with Sam and the poor guy was too big to maneuver through the obstacles (on the off chance he understood Tommy). Laughter echoed through the air at their depressing run.

Wilbur and Quackity achieved a time of 1:28, another team record! A Good record this time… Everyone cheered and clapped at their win, and would giggle and congratulate failures the same. There was a light feeling in the atmosphere, one that should eradicate your stupid anxious feelings.

“Ready coach?” Phil asks, eyeing you with his manic smile. What was there to possibly be happy about? What was he soooo happy about?? Your impending embarrassment that Schlatt was most definitely gonna cause. A fucking trust exercise with a guy who hates you?? He was a rude guy. Schlatt yelled at you and is probably still upset he had to apologize. Maybe he has a trick up his sleeve… Maybe he is gonna make you fall straight into the dirt.

“Hurry up..” Schlatt ushers you along to the start of the obstacle course. Together you empty your pockets, making sure nothing important will fall out or get in the way. Placing everything on the ground outside of the course.

Schlatt folds a red bandana three times before placing it over your eyes. The fabric leaves a snug sensation on your head, soft but not too tight. He grips your shoulders and turns you around, tying the bandana while bending down to whisper in your ear.

“Stop worrying. Trust me.” You take one final breath, appreciating the closeness between you, and you believe him. Maybe your stupid?

3
2
1
GO!

“Two steps left, one step forward! Two steps right, one step forward! Repeat that three more times!” Schlatt's voice cuts through the commotion, instantly seizing control of your mind. You follow his directions as if an invisible force was guiding you, immediately, instinctively.

“Good job! One more step right okay, take three small steps forward and…. Jump!” He continues to shout.

You're hesitant to jump, scared of tripping and falling on your face, but by some miracle, you land with just a small stumble. Your heartbeat blares in your head, Schlatt's voice manages to drown out all other sounds.

“Good, good, good! Now take two steps forward, yes good job, keep going! Take three small steps up. Yes one, two, three. Ok, there’s a small dropoff just brace yourself.” Your body hits the ground, the sharp sensation jolting through your feet.

“Just two more to go, you're doing really good kid.” His words make you feel warm, fuck you have to focus. “Take two steps forward, then duck!”

Fortunately, being smaller you have an advantage with ducking beneath the bar. It’s low enough for the giant hockey players to pass under, so it should be light work for you.

“Great job sweetheart, now one step forward. Turn left and walk slowly in a circle. Stay close to the center. Yes okay, keep turning, STOP! Now turn around. Walk as straight as you can. Just follow my voice.” It's the longest you've heard him speak without swearing or insulting someone, you realize maybe he has a little human in him after all.

The two of you had to be alone? It sounded like it at least. There might've been a crowd cheering muffled in your background, but you weren't sure. All you heard was him.

You steadied your feet, walking in a straight line as fast as possible.

“YES, KEEP GOING! TWO MORE STEPS, AND YOU’RE HERE! WOOOOOOOO!" He screams and you feel your feet leave the ground. You hug him tight as wind gushes on your face, you feel the world spinning around. Just as quickly as it happened you feel the rough ground beneath your feet. Did he just pick you up for a victory hug?? Did you hug back??

You rip off the bandana and adjust your eyes to the hectic world around you. Squinting at everyone as you hear Phil declare, with his best announcer voice, “WITH A TIME OF 1:05, THEY HAVE JUST MADE A NEW TEAM RECORD!” The team erupts in cheering.

You can’t help but smile.

The joy was contagious. Tommy shouts “YEAHHH BIG MANNNS!” and playfully boxes Sapnap’s arm. Wilbur stands there, clapping and grinning like a maniac. Phil laughs at the boy's excitement, and everything feels right.

At least for a moment.

“Good job Schlatt!” You look up and notice how close you are. Only a couple inches separate him from you and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Immediately creating distance between you two you step backwards. You (naturally) step directly onto your stuff that had been laying on the ground. You wouldn’t care if you didn’t hear a soft crunch of a phone screen. Schlatt’s screen. Fuck fuck fuck.

Panic takes over you.

“Yeah, we fucking killed it. You did super well!” You offer a lopsided smile in return, unable to hide your changing mood. He follows your gaze downwards and his eyes land on the cracked phone screen, adorned with three large fractures.

“Are you fucking serious…” He grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fucking dumb broad can’t do anything right.” Despite his anger, he is remaining surprisingly composed. Crazy how fast a mood can change.

Everyone else had moved on, cheering on the last team. You thanked god they were not paying attention to you anymore. Stepping closer to Schlatt, you attempt to keep this incident between the two of you.

“I’m really sorry, don't be mad. I will get it replaced when we get back. It was an accident.” You apologize, feeling the weight of your mistake.

“I fucking need that for business calls this weekend. What if my manager needed to tell me something important? Can’t you use your stupid head to think about shit? Or do you just enjoy getting in my fucking way?” He slowly raises his voice, the irritation growing within him. You glamce around making sure no one is looking your way.

“I know. I’m really sorry. Let’s just talk about it later.” Your eyes start to water as he glowers at you. Fuck you need to do some rejection therapy, the life of a people pleaser is a hard one.

“Just leave me the fuck alone.” He grumbles, keeping himself calm. You count your blessings and leave him be, talking with Wilbur for the rest of the day. Shit fuck why did you do that. Why was he so bitchy? You were gonna fix it...

-- -- - ---

That night was colder than anyone had anticipated.

Your tent was cold and your sleeping bag was not doing what it was supposed to do. There was a soft drizzle outside making barely audible taps on top of your tent. Your body was not going to let you sleep. It was in fight or flight and lonely shivers kept being sent down your spine.

Wearing 3 layers of clothes; a long sleeve and two sweaters (because you didn't bring a jacket) you unzipped the tent to see what everyone else was doing.

The sky was beautiful. Only a 3-hour drive from campus and the skies were insanely dark and clear. You noticed most tents looked still and you just barely heard a couple whispers and giggling from inside.

The woods echoed with sounds of wind and rain and you heard someone let out a soft exhale.

Walking towards the fire pits you notice a man standing taking long drags from his cigarette. The crunch of your feet on the leaves causes him to shift his eyes to you, letting out a long exhale. The cloud of smoke disappears and his eyes lock with yours.

Oh, it's Schlatt.

Honestly, you were too tired to be mad about earlier and needed someone to talk to, something to get your mind off the cold.

He stares you down, eyes lingering on your shaking hands. You look back, adjusting your eyes to the night. He was wearing a jacket and had a warm beanie on, his tall frame heightened by timberlands. His deep brown eyes were unmoving from you as he leaned on a tree.

"Isn't smoking bad for athletes?" You mutter walking closer to him, shoving your hands into your hoodie. You sit on a bench close to where he's standing.

"i've gotten this far." His voice is low and grumbly. Maybe night brings out the chill Schlatt?

The cold attacks your nose as you sit below him. The light breeze burns your neck and legs, goosebumps scatter across your body. Your cheeks are red from the biting cold, and your chin is tucked into your sweater to keep it warm. Why the fuck was it freezing?

"I'm sorry about earlier, I shouldn't have said that." He says softly, taking another drag from his cigarette. The tobacco mixed with his cologne and the pine trees was insanely comforting, it felt warm. You really wanted to be engulfed by his smell. Maybe you would steal one of his sweaters one day.

Your eyes dilate slightly in surprise and you look up from the ground. "It's ok, it was just heat of the moment I guess. I’m sorry for breaking your phone." You say sincerely, wondering why you feel so strongly you have to convince him it's ok.

Your shoes are damp from the rain and you curl your toes in as your feet get colder. Your breath is visible in the dark night, you try to create little shapes in the air.

You huddle your knees into your chest trying to warm up your body and make yourself small, tired of these awkward conversations and mistakes..

"It's freezing out here, what are you doing?" Your voice is mixed with care and vulnerability.

"Couldn't sleep." He says dismissively, staring down at you, brows furrowing. He looks away eventually and stares up at the stars.

"Oh. You think we could start the fire?" You gesture to the pit in front of you both. Trying to figure out how you'll make it through the night.

"No, the wood is all wet now." He responds without the harsh bite he normally has.

You nod and follow looking up at the sky. Your hands were still shaking, and the squeezing in your chest from the cold hadn't left. If you didn't get warm soon you'd have a panic attack. You remembered articles about how people died in high 30s weather from hypothermia because they weren't prepared. How long would this last? What would happen if…

Your breathing pattern must've quickened as Schlatt raised an eyebrow at your change.

"It's really fucking cold. How are you just standing there?" You stutter out, beginning to calm yourself down. He was NOT being quite the conversationalist.

"Well I brought a real jacket sweetheart." He says condescendingly and smiles down at you, "We get really fucking cold winters in New York, I'm pretty used to this." He adds.

How could he be so calm? You felt as though the world was collapsing in and the cold was going to kill you at any given moment. He was giving you grins???

You don't want to be close to him. You don't want to. But it's just so fucking cold. Your fingers curl around your knees as you continue to draw inside.

The internal conflict had been raging within you this entire conversation. Ask to be near him, to share his body heat, or to stay away on the bench. It was just getting so cold. It was 2 AM and you hadn't slept. You couldn't!

Every time you tried to sleep your body would reject it with uncomfortable shivers and adrenaline rushes. Note to self: never go camping again. The cold was not going away. The damper your hoodie got in the drizzle the colder you were, and the more your socks were soaked.

"I'm-" you start but are hesitant to carry on. You were way too prideful, and this would involve swallowing a whole shit ton of it. He gazes down at you expectantly, a happy glint in his eyes.
The breeze shakes your body to your core, and tears start to well up. Fuck being this cold! You had been inching towards him the entire time subconsciously, he had to have noticed.
"It's really cold and I'm not prepared at all and no one is awake so I was wondering if I could or if you could um we could." You jump over words hurriedly spitting out your unfinished thoughts.
There was a small stretch of silence, the request hung quietly in the air. You immediately feel regret and embarrassment "Or no actually I think I'll go to my ten-"

You don't look at him afraid of being laughed at or judged, his eye contact was way too intense for you right now.

But before you have the chance to leave he rolls his eyes and extends his arm around you. He sits down on the bench and fully embraces you, holding you close to his chest with his free arm. His other arm brings up the cigarette to his lips. The motion was fluid, obviously he had done it a million times before.

He didn't say a word.

You let out small coughs as the secondhand smoke fills your lungs and he rolls his eyes but immediately puts it out. Geez sorry.

Your entire body is immersed in him. His arms around you, his legs below you, your head on his chest. When did he lift you? You decided not to worry about it.

His smell flooded your senses causing you to completely relax. Your head sank into his chest, falling into the rhythm of the rising and falling of his breath. You were consumed by his heat, comfortable for the first time this trip.

Your eyes shut, just for a second. You would heat up a little and then go back to the tent. Just a couple of seconds.

Maybe the sleep deprivation was getting to you.... because this was the guy you swore to hate..
But you were using him!

Yeah!!!!

You were using him for warmth and he was just your heating pad mhm.

"Thank you." You mumble and he slightly stiffens his grip.

"Don't worry I got you. Phil would kill me if I let you freeze to death." He grumbles his chin resting on top of your head. He keeps his arms locked around you.

And no your heart didn't skip a beat when he said he had you, and NO you did not feel completely at home in his arms. Lies!

You are using him. Yeah.

Chapter Text

Your eyes flutter open as you transition to the waking world. Light shifts through the mesh ceiling of the tent illuminating your surroundings. Your tent was the same as last night; backpack was emptied and clothes were scattered across the orange floor.

You sat up rubbing your eyes, feeling the soreness all throughout your back. Sleeping on the ground was not something you would like to ever do again. Just one more day…

Your hands were completely covered by the sleeves of a large jacket you did not recognize. It was 4 sizes too big and a dull navy gray you would not buy. It was warm and you did not complain.

Remembering last night you let out a soft 'oh shit' and slowly put the dots together. Why would he give you his jacket? Wouldn't he freeze? How did you get back in the tent? You have trouble trying to imagine him carrying you inside the tent in the middle of the night. It was a super involved task! Unzipping a tent that's so low to the ground with one hand??? And putting someone inside? How did you end up in the sleeping bag? There was no way it was just him, maybe you woke up and helped?

You decide to stay warm inside his jacket and throw on a pair of cozy pj pants (decorated with purple polka dots). The jacket went between your mid thighs and knees and insulated your entire body. You grab your toothbrush and toothpaste slowly leaving the comfort of your tent.

It was probably 45 out, way warmer than last night's freezing temperatures. You saw most of the team near the picnic tables arguing over something while laughing with one another.

Wilbur was hunched over a small propane stove fiddling with the knobs as Techno detailed everything he was doing wrong. Quackity was arguing with Tommy about pop tart flavors and the seriousness of heating them.

Everyone was wearing sweats and pjs matched with bedhead and glazed eyes. Wilbur had a matching blue and white striped set partly covered by his brown coat. His glasses were crooked and his hair was flattened and you thought he was looking incredibly cute.

Grabbing a plastic cup and walking over to the water fountain you considered how strange this was. Just a year ago you were crying yourself to sleep nightly, depressed and unmoving from your room. It was impossible to move on from your brother's death in that town, in that house, he was everywhere.

But now you were meeting friends, trying new things and surrounded by happy people who had a lot to look forward to. Life had a lot of offer, and you had to be willing to accept it.

The water was freezing as it came out from the faucet, you dipped your toothbrush in. You wondered if these guys had classes with you. If they were studying something cool. If they listened to the same music as you. All in all, you knew nothing about these guys! Maybe now is the time to start getting to know them you wonder... Always a little slow, you scold yourself.

Walking over to the boys you offer a shy good morning, sitting in between Tommy and Quackity.

"How did you sleep?" Asks Wilbur staring tentatively into your eyes. You forgot to even check what you look like this morning. You suddenly feel your eye bags grow dark and hair frizzle. You must look like a mess.

"I don't remember too much. I was freezing for a while but I found Schlatt and he leant me his coat and I slept I guess? Do I look tired?" You explain loosely the events of last night, voice horse and eyes darting at your scenery. The boys have stopped their conversations around you and are listening intently.

The pine smell has been amplified by the rain and the whole campsite smells like mulch and trees. The greenery is shining in the morning damp glowing like old paintings.

"No, of course not." Wilbur answers without a beat of hesitation, "I'm sorry you couldn't sleep. It must've been dire if you turned to Schlatt for help. You can come to any of us for help. You know that right?" He smiles at you, you barely see it as your eyes refuse to look at the pretty boy. His tone deepened at the end. A serious statement a mafia boss would make.

"He was just the first person I saw." You mumble into the table. Tired of being on blast in front of so many people. The boys start talking again, about pop tarts and parties, classes and what they think Phil has in store.

You and Tech are voluntold to make breakfast for everyone, while others start their own chores.
Personally you would've loved to set the table or find sticks for hotdogs but nOoOooO.

"What classes are you taking this year?" You ask, trying to break the tension between you. Tech didn't seem like a talkative guy. He was focused on his potato seasoning and didn't really care about much else.

"Physics 310, Greek history from the bronze age, English 400. Geek stuff." He gruffly replies, unwilling to look up.

"Oh yeah, I guess you’re in your fourth year. Your classes are gonna be more specialized. I'm just in English and math as a first year." Your bummed at this thought. Would you have no classes with any of the upperclassmen? You hate that Schlatt flashes across your mind.

Good. No upperclassmen means no silly business. You’d always liked them older.

You start cutting bell peppers and onions for your scrambled eggs. How many eggs to feed a hockey team you ask yourself?..

-
“Today’s first trust-building exercise is” Phil yells over us, Tommy starts drum rolling on the picnic table, and you hold your breath with anticipation. “The classic, the extraordinary, the amazing human knot!”

The team starts giggling and beginning to talk with one another. Tommy runs up beside you and starts excitedly telling you the rules, “Basically we get into a circle and we grab someone's right hand and then left hand, and then it's a huge tangled mess that we have to untangle by using our bodies.” He says the entire game in one breath talking 300 wpm. You smile at him.

“Thanks, Tommy.” He scratches the back of his head and offers a shy no worries before he runs away to start punching Quackity’s arm. The team reluctantly lines up shoulder to shoulder in a circle. Okay well, the height difference was fucking shining right now.

“Close your eyes! Stick out your left hand.” Phil exclaims. You hear murmuring of left vs right and Tommy being called an idiot. You stick out your left hand and stick it in the circle, you grab a soft hand with lightly calloused palms.

“Now right.” You cross your arm across your body and shoot your arm the other way. You grab a warm hand that’s sweaty and covering yours. “Open your eyes!” You can hear the smile in Phil’s voice.

You look up and see who you're connected with. Wilbur and Sapnap. This is doable.
“Okay, so how do we start this?” Says Quackity eyes glinting.

“I say we make little coach go underneath us. She is basically at our arm level.” Says Tommy with a wide grin.

“Hey! I don’t wanna be smelling all your armpits.” You retort, breaking the tension and creating a ripple of laughter within the boys.

“Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the greater good,” Technoblade suggests, his monotone voice cutting through the air.

“Tommy is full of energy, why don’t you take the lead.” You suggest, giving Tommy a smirk. He rolls his eyes but happily starts bending in between the knot. After failing miserably and shuffling everyone's hands Tommy explains he has a plan. He huddles with Quackity and they whisper their big secrets to one another. Finally after 30 seconds of planning Tommy exclaims his plan.

“Okay everyone take three steps forward.” Tommy’s enthusiasm is contagious and everyone follows Tommy’s plan. The synchronized shuffling only creates a tighter and stranger knot and the team erupts in laughter.

“Looks like we’re in this together.” Wilbur smiles at you, giving your hand a light squeeze. You smile and look around at the intertwined arms. Schlatt is starting to become competitive and begins ordering Quackity to go left and Sapnap to go right.

With each step and twist the team slowly unravels. You follow Wilbur’s lead letting him gently guide you through the hands. As the last two hands let go the team erupts in cheers.

‘Let's goooo boys!” Shouts Schlatt jumping in the air and chest-bumping Sapnap.

“Great job guys! This exercise is all about communication and teamwork. You guys nailed it!” Phil applauds our amazing effort. Relieved and smiling, you glance around. Maybe the ice has finally broken (no pun intended). This could be the start of something nice.

You excuse yourself, deciding to take the long route to the bathroom. You wonder about your new life here. Finally, the excitement of university sets in. You’ll find friends soon, and read books you’ve been wanting to read for years. You will meet someone you will love, you will experience new things.

The sun shines through the trees, the foliage covers the ground. The beginnings of fall are seen through the breeze shifting through your hair. This was a truly beautiful day.

While lost in daydreams you miss the root of your path. Suddenly your foot latches on the root causing you to stumble forward. In the process, you twist your ankle uncomfortably and let out a soft gasp in pain.

Grasping a nearby tree for support you squeeze your eyes shut from the sudden pain. The throbbing pain continues and you know you’ve twisted it. It’s fine, no big deal. After a few deep breaths you try to walk again, but immediately lean back on the tree. This shit hurts.

Despite the pain you soldier on. You don’t want to make more of a scene. You will quietly wrap your ankle when your back and suck it up like a girl would. You will have some Tylenol and be fine.

The day goes by okay. You opt to sit down whenever you can and move slowly and surely when your walking. No limping, no crying. Tylenol helps you get through Phil’s torture, the so-called “team bonding” he calls it.

That night after dinner Wilbur comes to your tent with a glint in his eyes. “It’s time for Never have I ever!” You put down your book and look up at him. He’s holding multiple bottles of Jack daniels and Sourpuss.
You begin to rattle excuses in your brain, blurting out “Oh you know the enemies are about to become lovers in my book I would hate to miss it.” Wilbur grins but grabs your arm and pulls you up from your sleep.

“It’s team tradition coach. Come on, live a little.” You can’t bring yourself to say no to his puppy eyes. You reluctantly grab your coat and head out, much to Wilbur's pleasure.

The team is sitting around a large bonfire. They look good. The fire illuminates their faces sweetly as the moon lights their backs. You stare at Schlatt. He is wearing a crewneck and teh same coat you wore last night. He is smoking a cigarette and looking so beautiful and disheveled. He is a beast of a man. Wide thighs that could fucking destroy you. Hands that could lift you. He watched you with elevated brows.

“Are you ready princess? Not feeling cold tonight?” He teases you in front of everyone reminding you of last night's debacle. What a moron. You ignore him sitting as far away as possible.

“I’m sure we’ve all played but for the new people,” Wilbur starts and stares wide-eyed at Tommy.

“Hey I’m a big man and I’ve done a lot of big man things and been to parties with lots of women!” Tommy runs over his words in a terrible attempt to defend himself.

“Say something you have never done before, and everyone who has done it has to take a drink from their cup. Only hard liquor tonight.” Wilbur grins. “I’ll start with a simple one, never have I ever been suspended from school.”

Half of the team rolls their eyes and takes drinks from their cups. “We play hockey if we haven’t I’d be more worried.” You notice Schlatt takes a long sip.

Quackity starts, “Never have I ever seen a ghost.” Tommy starts making ghost noises behind him and just you and Tech take sips. The liquid is hot down your throat, an unfamiliar feeling. The taste is bitter and you scrunch up your face in instinct. You hear snickering from Schlatt across the fire. Okay, so maybe it was your first time drinking, no time like the present!

“Never have I ever had a one-night stand.” Tommy giggles and stares around. Tech, Wilbur, Quackity, Schlatt, Sapnap, pretty much everyone takes a swing. In the life of hockey stars, you internally roll your eyes.

“Never have I ever Kissed a boy.” Says Schlatt staring directly at you. You take another drink trying your hardest to keep a straight face. Fucking Jerry Frinklew in 5th grade came to you covered in tears because has bullied for being gay. You agreed to kiss him during recess so everyone would think that he was straight. You had never had a real relationship.

Wilbur also takes a sip and Tommy starts yelling questions at the poor guy.
“Never have I ever been stood up,” Sapnap says grinning at Tech. You reluctantly take a sip. Fucking Tim Grew in 10th grade asked you on a date to see a new art exhibit. Once you got to the venue Tim wasn’t anywhere to be found and texted you 20 minutes later that he had too much homework to do. You don’t notice the stance shift in many players watching you.

“Never have I ever been arrested.” Says Sam eyeing half the team. Schlatt and Sapnap both take long drinks.

“For what?” You blurt out interrupting the silent rhythm of the game.

“Nothing you should have to think about sweetheart.” Chuckles Schlatt darkly his fingers squeezing the red solo cup creating soft dents.

The wind shifted through the trees reminding you of where you were of who you are. You don’t know these boys, you don’t know yourself. The thought sends shivers down your spine.

“What he said.” Adds Sapnap carefully choosing his words.

Tech is the last person before the circle bestows its abilities on you. You wipe your sweaty palms across your jeans. “Never have I ever either been cheated on/or cheated on someone.” You reluctantly take another drink.

“Ohh I knew you were a player coach!” Shouts Quackity giggling to himself.

“Yeah, something like that..” You mutter unwilling to share any more information. Talk about embarrassing…

You stand up to go to the snack table, tripping over your feet and stumbling on the uneven terrain. Your already twisted ankle shoots pain through your body. You let out a sharp exhale.

You feel yourself leaning onto the other side of your body. Slowly tilting left.

A tight grasp envelops your arm holding you upright. “You can’t even walk straight. Fucking lightweight. You’ve had like 2 shots dumb broad.” The brash accent attacks your ears. You instinctively take your put your body weight off your hurt ankle and onto Schlatt. He must notice your weight as he shifts his arm to make it easier for you to lean.

Once at the table, you reach towards the Jack Daniels near you. Schlatt lowers his voice and whispers in your ear "I think that's enough." He reaches over to take the bottle from you.

"You can't do that Schlatt those are not part of the rules." You slur out. "You're a big hypocrite you’ve probably had at least 5 shots of Daniels tonight!"

He rolls his eyes at your low estimate. “I never said I was fair. Besides, some of us can handle our liquor…. And some of us obviously can’t.” He gestures to you. Your cheeks are stained red and your eyes are bright.

“Honestly how are you this wasted after 3 shots?" If you were in a better state of mind you would have blushed at the idea that he was counting and observing you. Watching from across the fire, taking into account every detail of you. Remembering every answer you said, all your haves and have-nots.

"It’s my first time.” You mumble out.

Schlatt's eyes shift back to yours. First time, he wonders to himself. How vulnerable you are. How easily anyone here could take advantage of you and throw you out the next day. How stupid you are.

It crossed his mind that you and he were so different. He was introduced to cigarettes and alcohol when he was 10 when his dad left them open for him. How his friends at school introduced him to LSD in 7th grade, which he immediately rejected. He was from a rough neighborhood. He was used to needles left out on the gravel he played basketball on. You were used to comforters and clean grass-cut lawns. He wouldn’t get involved with you. No matter how perfectly your body would fit in his. And how beautiful your eyes looked on the brink of tears.

“I’m not drunk!” You retort furious at the allegations. Yes, you’ve had more liquor than ever in your life but you were fine. You could remember your last name and the second president of the United States and whatever else were the tell-tell signs of a sober person.

“Sure sweetheart and I’m the fucking pope.” he chuckles to himself, “If you can walk in a line straight I guess I’ll let you go.” You wanted to argue with him that you're not a child and you don’t need stupid tests. That you don’t love drinking, it's just your first time. Instead, you lean off the table and position yourself to walk.

One foot after the other, one foot after the other. It can’t be that hard. You’ve walked a million times before. Your ankle burns as your body weight is on it. Walk normal walk normal walk normal. You feel Schlatt’s burning gaze on you, analyzing your every move.

Left foot. You bring your left foot forward and keep your eyes glued to the floor. You shut your eyes from the sting you feel. You quickly bring your right foot forward so you can shift your weight. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right f-

“What the fuck?” You hear Schlatt right behind you. He bends down and begins to roll your pants up. “Why are you limping like a fucking vet?”

“Wait Schlatt no..” You start as you realize what he’s doing. You try to step back but he has a viper grip on your ankle. “That hurts.” You whisper the pain becoming unbearable. He loosens his grip as you sit on the cold forest floor in defeat. He gently pulls down your sock revealing a swollen and bruised ankle poorly wrapped in bandage.

“Stupid broad. This is from fucking hours ago? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why did you keep fucking walking on it all day?” He grits his teeth.

“Please don’t yell at me, I didn't do anything wrong.” The alcohol and stressful days are starting to take their toll on you. “I’m sorry, okay just let me go. It doesn’t hurt that bad I took some Tylenol like 2 hours ago..” You idiot… You knew something felt off… Mixing drugs and alcohol the second night with these people? How much more of an embarrassment could you be? You feel water start to touch your cheeks. Is it pain? Is it stress? Is it his stupid dominating presence?

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes darken while his white knuckle grip releases. He gets up and leaves. Leaves you sitting on the cold dirt floor. Leaves you crying and in pain—a real class act. After a couple of minutes, Wilbur comes over in a frantic rush.

“Oh my god! Poor dove let me fix this up for you.” You stare up at him through your tear-covered lashes. He was backlit by the moon, a glowing halo all around him. You lift your hand so he can drag you up, but instead, he crouches down and takes you bridal style. How embarrassing.

You sniffle up your tears. Enough is enough. Time to woman up. Wilbur whispered sweet affirmations in your ear. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I will help you”

Once inside Wilbur’s tent, you notice how everything is organized. Wilbur cooed and worked meticulously on your ankle. Schlatt had left without a fucking word. Wilbur’s suitcase is meticulously packed and folded. His books and portable chargers each in their assigned section. His sleeping bag and blankets were made and his pillows were ready to be laid on. You could just take a small rest.

“You drank a lot tonight, you should rest.”

“I’m sorry I’m not normally this much of a mess.” You mumble into his pillow, unable to make eye contact. Your ankle felt better

He wrapped your ankle off and ignored your sniffling.

“Night princess.”