Chapter Text
”What the fuck do you mean?” Dean said into the phone.
“Dean, honestly. Haven’t you read the news today?” Sam sighed at the other end of the line. “It’s the main thing people are talking about.”
“Who has time to read the news?” Dean grumbled and sat at his desk to open his laptop. What news sites were there? “Sports news?”
“Sports news,” Sam confirmed.
If Dean thought he’d have to scroll further down to find what he was looking for, he was mistaken. The headline was there on the first page and Dean cursed loudly when he read it. He clicked the article open and skimmed through it.
Rubbing his temple with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone, he tried to calm his breathing. His therapist had told him he should calm down and think about whether the situation was really that bad before reacting to it. She probably would consider this one of the more manageable ones. It did not directly affect his life in any way. It was just a new coworker.
Still, the situation sucked and it sucked even more that no one had warned him. Not Bobby, not Crowley, not even Sam, who had probably done some of the legal work for the transfer.
“Fuck,” Dean summarized his emotions. “Did you know about this before it happened?”
“Are you going to be alright?” Sam asked instead of answering the question. Which, in Dean’s opinion, was an answer itself. “I know you’ve had disagreements in the past. But you’re both adults and can work through the issues?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose trying to relieve the headache he could feel coming. “I guess.”
“Maybe if you talk to him? You never know, you have a lot in common. By this time next year you could be best friends,” Sam said.
“Sure,” Dean said dubiously. “Look, I gotta go. I need to make some phone calls.”
“Mmmh,” Sam hummed. “You do that. Remember that no one is making these decisions to make your life more difficult. They just want to make more money. And they also pay your ridiculously generous paychecks.”
“Right. Bye, bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam said affectionately and ended the call.
Now that he wasn’t on the phone with his brother, Dean took time to read the article more carefully. In the world of ice hockey, it wasn’t uncommon for players to change teams. It was all part of the business. For most of his adult career Dean had played in the same team, the Lawrence Leviathans, but not everyone did, or had the option to make those same choices. The competition in the NHL could be cutthroat, both for individual players and teams.
Castiel Novak was one of the best ice hockey players in the whole world. All doors were open for him. Any team would be happy to have him, but he had chosen to join the one Dean was on. They must’ve offered him one hell of a deal, because Dean was sure Novak wasn’t any fonder of Dean than Dean was of him.
They first met in a “friendly” junior match, USA vs. Czech Republic, when they’d been barely 16-year-olds. Of course, Dean had heard of Novak before, especially when they had been preparing for the game, but even then, it had been a shock to actually see him skate. He was quick on his feet, read the game like no one else Dean had ever seen, and sank pucks before Dean’s team had time to notice that he had a clear shot. It had been both mesmerizing and infuriating.
In the second period Dean had managed to score a couple of goals, and despite the game being intense, it had ended in a tie. When they’d shook each other’s hands after the game, to his annoyance, Dean had been struck by how attractive Novak was. Piercing blue eyes that seemingly stared into Dean’s soul and dark hair, messy from Novak sweating under his helmet, made him exactly Dean’s type. Dean knew what he liked, even if he had been firmly in the closet at that age.
Well, technically he still was. The world of ice hockey with all the macho posturing wasn’t the most open for queer identities, but at least by now everyone in Dean’s personal life knew. Some of his closest teammates knew too, and they never had problems undressing in the locker rooms with Dean, so Dean took it as a sign of progress.
“Do you think there could ever be a bisexual player in the NHL?” Dean had asked Charlie once. Charlie had never played but she did communications and IT support for the Leviathans and usually was a good bouncing board for Dean’s ideas.
“There already is at least one,” Charlie had answered, without raising her eyes from her phone.
“Yeah, but openly,” Dean clarified. “Imagine how much it would mean for all the queer kids who like the sport to see someone like them playing in the league.”
Charlie put her phone down and sighed.
“Dean, you aren’t obligated to be a role model for anyone, especially if coming out influences your career and safety. Yes, it would be awesome if everyone could always openly be themselves, but in the end it’s your life and your decision. Whatever you do, I will support you, but I can’t make the choice for you,” Charlie said.
The conversation had happened years ago, but here Dean was, almost 30, and not really officially “out”. He’d dated some men in his life, but the affairs had been short and never got serious enough for Dean to consider being open about them. Some of his girlfriends had been in the public eye, but the consensus seemed to be that Dean Winchester was a womanizer who had no intention of settling down any time soon.
That was fine with him. Let the fans draw their own conclusions and leave him alone.
Dean’s phone rang. Even without looking he guessed it was Bobby, his coach and the closest thing to a father figure he’d had.
“Yeah?” Dean said.
“I assume you’ve heard,” Bobby grunted into the phone.
“About the pain in the ass joining the team? Yep,” Dean said.
“You need to play nice, boy. Don’t make me regret everything I’ve done for you,,” Bobby said. “Novak is a hell of a player, and I’m adding him to your line to see how things fly.”
Fuck.
“Right,” Dean said.
“The rest of the team looks up to you, Winchester,” Bobby said. The situation must be dire if Bobby surnamed him. “They will take their cue from how you welcome him. So be nice. I’ll be watching you.”
“Yeah yeah.”
“If you won’t get your head outta your arse, I can ask Crowley to give you a call and explain why Novak being in the team makes good business sense,” Bobby said. “You’d love that discussion, I’m sure.”
Crowley was the general manager of the Leviathans. Dean liked him well enough and trusted him to do his job, but Dean was not prepared to listen to Crowley explain the details of something Dean did not and didn’t want to understand. A team playing well meant more money to the owners. That was all Dean needed to know.
“I’ll be on my best behavior, Bobby.”
“See that you are. See you next week at practice.”
When the call ended, Dean felt more restless. The league was on break, and they’d only start actively training for the next season in a week, but Dean needed to tire himself out or he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. He packed a bag and left for his regular gym. It wouldn’t do to be in less than peak condition if he wanted to show who the best player on the team was.
Dean had arrived at the Ice Center two hours before their practice started to get his skater legs back after a long pause. When he slid on the ice, with his twig in hand, pushing the biscuit along, he relaxed and the voices in his head were silenced.
This was where he belonged. In his mind he could hear the roaring sounds of the crowds and feel the excitement of the game in his body. He tested some of the tricks he had been practicing, then skated around the rink to get his muscles warm for the main practice. It took these quiet hours in the rink with just his thoughts to remember why he had fallen in love with the game all those years ago.
Someone clapped his hands at the edge of the rink when Dean scored from a tricky angle, and Dean turned to look.
Novak leaned against the board and smiled at him. He was dressed casually and had clearly stopped to watch Dean on his way to the locker rooms.
“Hello, Dean,” Novak greeted him when Dean skated closer.
“Hey,” Dean said, raising his visor and reminding himself that they were teammates now and he should remain civil. “Ready for the challenge?”
“Challenge?” Novak blinked.
“Well, you’ll be a wing man to the best Center in the league, won’t you?” Dean grinned. Novak’s eyes flashed and he raised an eyebrow. “Think you’re ready for it?”
“I think I can manage,” Novak said. Fuck. His accent combined with his gravelly voice was doing things to Dean. He realized he had never spoken much to Novak even though they’d known each other for more than a decade. Their interactions had always been more physical, checks and fights on ice. “Are you prepared to relinquish M.V.P?”
“Not gonna happen man,” Dean said. “Get changed. We might have time for a Give and Go before the rest of the guys get in.”
Novak nodded and lifted his bag on his shoulder before heading towards the locker room. Dean tracked his departure before shaking his head.
Get your head back into the game, Winchester.
Just because the interaction with Novak felt, well, flirty was the closest word Dean could think of, didn’t mean it had been that. In all his years playing, Dean had learned that the ways straight teammates socialized with each other would seem pretty damn intimate, even sexually charged, to any outside observers. The dynamics just were like that, and it didn’t mean anything outside the rink and the locker room. The statistics told Dean that Novak was likely straight like most ice hockey players and whatever Dean had picked from him was just normal posturing.
Despite Dean being on his best behavior, practice was a disaster. Individually Dean and Novak played brilliantly, but they just didn’t seem to be able to communicate with each other. They missed passes, their placements were all over the place, and even basic maneuvers hadn’t worked.
Bobby hadn’t been less than pleased.
“Listen here, you idjits. You better be back here tomorrow with better attitudes and be ready to communicate with your teammates. Now go home and rest. No bar crawls tonight! That means you, Winchester!”
After a few weeks of practice, Dean was used to seeing Novak in the locker room and got rid of his first instinct of checking him every time they were on ice. They still didn’t play smoothly in the same line, but it was slowly getting better. Bobby had even given them permission to get some post-practice beers tonight, so the team was heading to the Roadhouse. When he got there, Dean chatted a bit with Ellen and Jo, before choosing a table and starting to scroll on his phone. After a few minutes someone joined him and put his beer on Dean’s table.
“Hello, Dean,” Novak’s voice sent shivers down Dean’s body.
“Hey,” Dean responded. He wasn’t as bothered by the company as he would have expected.
“Bobby told me to talk to you. He wants me to be friendly with you and find some common ground,” Novak said, not beating around the bush. “He thinks we see each other more as rivals than teammates and wants to change that.”
Dean laughed.
“Damn Bobby,” Dean muttered and shook his head. “Listen, Bobby has been a family friend since I was a kid, and he has seen me all through my career. Ever since my… eh, you’ve probably heard my tragic backstory.”
Novak nodded.
“The basics of it. I know what happened to your mother and father,” Novak said and placed a hand on top of Dean’s. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” Dean said, sliding his hand away. “But thanks.”
John Winchester had been a great hockey player who had met Mary Campbell at the beginning of his career. They got married, had two beautiful children, and everything seemed to be going perfectly for them when a tragedy struck.
A house fire killed Mary Winchester, and instead of more healthy coping mechanisms, John had turned to alcohol. The shining career he’d had ahead of him had been cut short and he had become persona non grata in all NHL teams after he had become overly aggressive against his opponents and even his own teammates. Bobby had been on John’s team and had practically raised Dean and Sam when John had gone to rehab only to start drinking again.
Although Dean had loved his father, John had been a mean drunk and a bigot. The things he had said about sexual minorities had kept Dean from ever coming out to him and had affected him long into his adulthood. The unkind, insecure thoughts inside Dean’s head still spoke in John Winchester’s voice, even though Dean had gotten better at ignoring them.
John had died in a car accident when Dean was a teenager. The memories were painful, but Dean had processed them in therapy and now he no longer lived in his father’s shadow.
“Anyway, Bobby was there for me when we first played against each other,” Dean said. “Do you remember that?”
“Yes. U18, friendly match. I admired your skills even then,” Novak said.
“Thanks,” Dean rubbed his neck nervously. “I was jealous of yours. I guess I just had the need to be better than you.”
“Dean, we’re on the same team now. We don’t have to compete,” Novak said.
“Except when it comes to championship games.”
Novak flashed him a grin.
“Oh, when it comes to championships, all team loyalties go to Czechia,” Novak said. “Then I will do my best to crush you.”
“Ditto.”
They looked at each other silently for some minutes while sipping on their beers.
“Dean, I do think we could be friends if we tried,” Novak said. “I know we had some, ah, fights before but that’s the game, right?”
“Yeah, that’s the game,” Dean said. “I’d like to try being friends. Hey, do people actually call you Castiel in real life?”
“Mostly. I tried going by my second name James for a while, but it never stuck, and my brothers have some less than flattering nicknames for me. Mostly people just call me by my name though,” Novak said.
“Right,” Dean nodded. “It’s a bit of a mouthful. How about a better nickname?”
“Do you have one in mind?”
“I could call you Cas,” Dean shrugged.
Novak seemed to be trying out the name in his head for a while before he opened his mouth again.
“That’s… acceptable.”
“Awesome,” Dean smiled widely. “Welcome to the team, Cas. It’s nice to have you on our side.”
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, hiding a smile into his beer glass.
“Hey, brother,” Benny greeted him as they were boarding the plane for the first away game of the season. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Dean gritted his teeth. He hated flying. If it had been possible, he would have preferred driving, but with the travel miles they had to do between games, it wasn’t a feasible option.
“Clearly,” Benny grinned. “Don’t worry. It’ll be a short flight today.”
Dean nodded, trying to keep his mouth closed.
“So. You and Novak have gotten friendly with each other?” Benny asked and Dean gave him a pointed glance. Benny was one of the few of Dean’s teammates who knew about his sexuality. That didn’t usually bother him but in the light of the new developments Dean regretted once, years ago, getting drunk enough to complain to Benny about how attractive he found Castiel Novak. It had been a moment of weakness when Dean had been single for a while and feeling horny, and they had played against Cas’ team a few days earlier. Benny had never brought it up again, but Dean knew that the memory lived in his head sharp and clear. The knowing looks and eyebrow raises told Dean that Benny hadn’t forgotten any of his drunken confession.
“Yeah, turns out he’s fun to be around after all,” Dean said. “Who would’ve known.”
“You’re playing better together too.”
Dean shrugged. It was true, but the only way was up from their disastrous beginning.
“I guess.”
“That’s great,” Benny said and he seemed to be considering his words carefully because they were surrounded by all their other teammates and staff. “It’s good that you’re getting along.”
“Bobby put us in the same hotel room until we learn to communicate in the rink and outside it. I guess he was right and spending time together would help,” Dean said.
Raising a pointed eyebrow, Benny smirked at Dean.
“Mmm, sounds like your friendship has potential to become a close one,” Benny said and Dean quickly glanced around them. No one was paying them any attention.
Dean shook his head.
“Not any closer than two teammates usually are,” Dean said, trying to word his sentence carefully. “I don’t know whether he’s interested in being friends with someone like me, and the pressure of playing in the league doesn’t make friendships easy.”
“You never know. We became friends too although not in that way,” Benny shrugged. “Hey, speak of the devil.”
Cas approached them cautiously.
“Hello, Dean. Benny,” he greeted them. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Nope,” Dean said. “That topic of conversation is done.”
“We could talk about how much Dean fears flying instead,” Benny smirked.
“Fuck off! I’m not scared. Humans just aren’t meant to fly, that’s all,” Dean insisted.
“Do you want me to take the window seat, Dean?” Cas asked. “So you don’t have to look out.”
“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “That’d be great.”
Despite his teasing, and the fact that he sat opposite to them, Benny didn’t say a word about it when Dean grasped Cas’ hand during the takeoff. Cas didn’t seem to mind either.
“Winchester! Pull your head out of your ass and focus on the game,” Bobby shouted. “We need a win tonight and you daydreaming isn’t helping.”
The practice hadn’t been good so far. With his other teammates Dean played well together, the passes reaching their target and Dean had a sense of where they were at any given time. But with Cas… He had no idea. Cas moved well, sneaking into positions where he’d be well placed to score a goal, but Dean never realized it until the situation was already over.
It fucked with his head. It was as if Cas was invisible to him on ice no matter how many times they practiced the offensive strategies.
After the practice Bobby pulled him aside.
“Winchester. A word,” Bobby called out as Dean’s teammates were going to the locker rooms. Benny gave Dean a sympathetic glance. Dean expected Bobby to shout more or reprimand him in other ways, but instead of meeting his coach, he was suddenly face to face with the version of Bobby who raised him.
“What’s wrong, Dean?” Bobby asked, looking concerned. “I thought you were over your beef with Novak?”
“I am!” Dean said, removing his helmet and combing through his hair. “We get along and I think we’re becoming friends. But when we’re on ice… I don’t know, he just sneaks up on me before I can react. I notice that he’s perfectly positioned 15 seconds too late and then the play is already over.”
Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Dean, you’re a hell of a player. Novak is too. Novak has his own blind spots in the rink, but if you two learned to combine your strengths and play together to complement each other, you’d be unstoppable,” Bobby said.
“I know,” Dean muttered. “I will try.”
“See that you do,” Bobby said. “Now go on and get some food and prepare for the game.”
The arena was sold out for the game and Dean could feel the excitement running through his veins.
“Are you feeling good?” Cas asked him before they left the locker room.
“Yeah, I am,” Dean said. He was nervous about the game, but it was a good kind of nervousness he knew would evaporate as soon as he got on ice. The Leviathans were a good team, he knew what the people he was playing with could do, and Dean had done mental preparation for the game all afternoon. They could win this.
The first period almost proved him wrong since it ended with them behind 0 – 1. But the game wasn’t over until it was over.
During the second period, Dean began to notice Cas on the ice. It reminded him of his younger years, when he had been aware of where Novak was at any given second, but this time Cas was on his team. As if all the practicing had clicked in just now, instead of being invisible, Cas called to Dean like a lighthouse and all the maneuvers he did began to make sense, because they combined their practiced strategies with Cas’ skills and signature moves.
Just by realizing the logic of Cas’ decisions and how he executed what they had practiced, Dean was now in tune with where to find him at all times.
And that was just the beginning. Halfway through the second period Dean had a chance to try for a goal, it would be difficult but not impossible to score, but while he moved with the puck looking for the perfect spot, he noticed Cas’ position and in a split-second decision he passed the puck to Cas.
Cas scored.
In the next second Dean was hugging him in celebration. It felt natural, just teammates congratulating each other on a job well done, but it also sent other kinds of sparks to his synapses.
From then on, they scored twice more, and the end result was 2 – 3 for the Leviathans.
Bobby gave his usual speech afterwards, thanking them for a good game, and giving Dean a small smile that made Dean feel better than any amount of praise from everyone else. Then Bobby sent them for their post-game workouts and stretching.
In the backroom, Cas set his stretching mat next to Dean and kept his eyes on him.
“You know that could be done more effectively?” Cas said.
“Oh yeah?” Dean asked. He had been doing the same stretches for years, and no one had ever told him he was doing them wrong. That could be because all the players did their own things to recover from the game, and nobody could tell what worked best for anyone else. Sure, Dean wasn’t the most flexible guy on ice, he made up for it with other attributes, but he always tried to find the best ways for post-game recovery.
“Have you tried this?” Cas asked and put his hands on Dean, pressing him to lie down on his back. He took a stretching band from the box, where they had items for post-game stretching and muscle massaging, and handed it to Dean. “Now, you put one leg up and let the other rest against the floor. With the band around your foot, just hold it up for a little while. Then you take your leg to the side while keeping the opposite arm on the mat. Slowly! Can you feel the stretch on your inner thigh?”
Dean could feel his muscle stretching but he was distracted by the way he was lying on the ground with his leg open and Cas kneeling in front of him.
“Hold for a little and then twist the same leg on the other side of your body and keep your opposite arm down again,” Cas continued, seemingly unbothered by Dean’s inner turmoil. “Does that feel like it’s working?”
“Yeah,” Dean croaked. “Feels awesome, Cas.”
“Great,” Cas smiled. “You can repeat it a few times with both legs. I find it really effective for myself.”
“Thanks,” Dean said. “You know, I wouldn’t mind working more together pre- and post-games. I could hopefully become more flexible in time if I had the right routine.”
“I would like that very much, Dean.”
Cas began to focus on his own post-game routine, and Dean left him to do it. Cas hadn’t given him any indication that he was interested in more than manly sports stuff with Dean, so he tried to remove all the graphic thoughts about Cas doing other stuff between his legs from his mind.