Chapter Text
All of Matthew’s dreams revolved around ice, they had for as long as he could remember. Maybe that’s why he threw himself wholeheartedly into hockey, eager for the chill that settled over rinks and the proud smiles of his father.
He dreamt of ice through juniors and in London and the night before he was drafted. That night, he dreamt of a vast land of ice, cold and biting to all except him. The ice called him home, and he had dedicated his life to it. He went 6th the next day to Calgary.
In his dreams, Matthew is free. When he plays hockey in Calgary, he feels the whisper of his dreams under his skates, moving him faster than anyone else. Hockey is hard though, he is too free and too wild at times. It’s frustrating, how could anyone expect him to settle down when his blood sang the second his skate blades hit the ice?
How could anyone except him to gentle himself for a sport that he had dreamed of for two decades? His dreams tell him to be wild, that his joy will carry him higher than anyone he knew. In his more restless moments, Matthew wonders if McDavid dreams of ice like him. Or Draisaitl. He hopes not.
In 2021, the night before his first practice of the season, Matthew does not dream of ice for the first time in his life. He dreams of warmth, of golden sand, and salty breezes. Come home, the sea calls to him like a siren, you and I could be great together. He wakes up scared and sweating. And at practice the ice in the Saddledome no longer sings to him quite as strongly as it did before.
He still flies. He’s still free. But he can feel the weight of expectation upon him. Johnny’s leaving soon, a seagull had told him two weeks ago. Giordano will also be called to a different sea, the salty breeze told him. There’s a sickness here, the sea will wash you clean, the ice whispers underneath him, and he knows.
Then it’s January 4th and the Flames are playing the Panthers and the ice starts to sing again. The Flames don’t win the game, but Matthew feels something settle in his chest. This is where he belongs. That night, while the rest of the team go straight to their rooms to recover from their loss and Sutter’s verbal lashings, Matthew goes to the beach. There you are, it says to him.
After they get home from their 4 lose road trip, Matthew calls his agent and asks for a trade. “I’m aiming for the Panthers, I like what they have going on down there,” he tells his agent. His dreams that night are icy again. Instead of an icy wasteland, he dreams of an iced over Atlantic Ocean that he knows will soon be his. The air around him is warm but the ice beneath his feet is smooth and sturdy. He will not fall here.
January 18th the Panthers come to Calgary. Matthew is flying. See how good I could be with you? The Flames win by a landslide.
Four days later, the team loses in Edmonton. Matthew got the opening goal and an assist on Hanny’s goal in the third, but Draisaitl ends the game with 4 points. Matthew showers extra long after the loss, trying to shake the urge to congratulate him. They aren’t friends, they never will be. Things might have smoothed themselves out since St. Louis in 2020, but not like that.
Matthew goes home and dreams of the frozen sea. He thinks there is someone skating with him, far to the north. He wakes up and shrugs. Maybe someone else also hears the song the ice sings to them.
The Flames season ends to the Oilers and Matthew can’t find it in himself to be too upset about it. His head is killing him and his body is battered. His heart is too, just a bit. Its’s decidedly bittersweet leaving Calgary, the place he thought he would call home forever. But his dreams call to him and soon his trade is announced.
Matthew is out celebrating when McDav… Connor calls. They were kind of friends off the ice, friends of friends and friendly enough to each other. Now that they aren’t divisional rivals anymore, Matthew chooses to think of him as a friend.
“Good luck in Florida, Chucky,” Connor says. There is some shuffling in the background and a muffled voice. “I.. I know you’re gonna do well there, you oversized rat,” Connor says but the words don’t taste like his own. “Thanks man, I’ve got a house on the beach all ready and everything. Let me know if you need a vacation from being the savior of the Land of Ever Winter,” Matthew needles. He hears Connor snort and another from off to the side of the phone. Draisaitl?
“I’ll miss you and Alberta too,” Matthew says after a moment of thought, “it’s always fun playing against you.” Perhaps both of them know that the words aren’t meant for Connor, but his more-or-less silent companion. The call ends shortly after that and Matthew feels lighter than he has in a while.
The 2022-23 season starts and Matthew feels free again. The ice is a little bumpy in Florida but the bones are where they need to be. Matthew will make this work. He has to. The sea has given him a patience that he didn’t have when he was younger. Perhaps that’s a virtue of age?
The Panthers make it to the playoffs by the skin of their teeth and Matthew feels his blood sing like it once did in Calgary.
Bruins done in seven.
Leafs done in five.
Hurricanes done in four.
Panthers vs. Knights. Matthew can do this.
Matthew cannot do this though. Fucking Kolesar. Fucking Vegas. Fucking stupid broken sternum. The hit happens in game 3 and maybe it’s the adrenaline but Matthew doesn’t feel it until he’s back in the locker room after their overtime win. Then all he feels is hurt and pain. Breathing isn’t supposed to be this painful, right?
He plays anyways. His dad shakes his head but doesn’t ask him not to, he knows what this means. His mother begs him not to play and Taryn calls him a dumbass. Brady stays quiet has to help him up and into his gear, someone else bends down to tie his skates. Sasha and Bob shoot him looks, but Matthew chose this. He can’t, won’t leave them when they are so close to their goal.
The ice sings, but it isn’t a nice song. He can’t do it again.
They lose.
It’s not your time yet, the sea croons. Matthew is dreaming. He can’t even skate in his dreams apparently, so he is siting on the beach listening to the roll of the waves and the call of birds overhead. “Why not,” Matthew asks. He feels like a petulant child.
The sea soothes him, heals his hurts. The sea is gentle but it can also be cruel and violent, Matthew never has to gentle himself here. You’re missing something.. someone, a lone albatross calls from above. Don’t albatrosses mate for life? Matthew wakes up feeling much better than when he went to sleep.
His doctors and physical therapist are excited, if not mildly suspicious about how quickly Matthew heals. Matthew can’t explain that the sea had him cover himself in seaweed and algae while he was dreaming to hasten his recovery, that it soothed his aches and promised him victory and warmth and belonging until the end of his days in Florida. He takes it easy until they announce he can start preseason training only a month and a half later than the rest of the league.
Summer ends and the 2023-24 season starts. Matthew dreams of the beach still, but there is someone else with him. He bites his lip when he recognizes the dirty blonde hair and the shape of his face. Why the hell is Draisaitl in his dream? But he looks sad and worn and weathered in a way that Matthew recognizes. So he pulls Draisaitl back into his chest and hums tales of hope and strength and victory into his ear.
Draisaitl becomes Leon. He comes to the beach every night. The sea smooths his raw edges. Soon, it whispers to Matthew. Soon, the lone albatross calls. Matthew leans in and presses a kiss to Leon’s muscular back. His overgrown curls tickle Leon’s warm skin. Grins at him when Leon looks back him, eyes clouded with sleep. Soon you’ll bring me home, the low down sun says as it sinks below the ocean.