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Luca stares at the empty rink with a soft sigh.
He needs this, after the game he played earlier.
He fucked up.
Several times.
He's lucky he didn't cost the team the game.
He's going to get his ass reamed during practice leading up to their game against the fucking Voyagers now because of tonight.
Luca hasn't played a bad game in a while.
Going a whole game without scoring simply because you couldn't get the puck in the goal is not the way Luca plays.
It's not.
"Fuck!" yells Luca as soon as he's standing in the middle of the rink, a bag of pucks next to him with his hockey stick laying across it.
Media was a shit-show, everyone wanted to ask him what happened out there, and question why the team let him play through the game despite the mistakes. They even asked if the team would bother letting him play against the Voyagers after seeing how badly he did tonight.
Luca avoided Michel the entire time, didn't look at him once, and it sucks because he only started to enjoy doing media shit because of getting to see Michel.
Tonight though?
He avoided looking his way, didn't openly choose Michel to ask a question, he just kept his eyes forward and answered the questions thrown his way mechanically before giving the mic to his captains and disappearing back into the arena.
After a harsh breath, Luca starts setting pucks out all over the rink before dropping the bag on his team's bench. Then he heads back onto the ice and starts skating. He does three laps before he slides to the middle of the rink and settles into face-off position behind the puck.
It's a blur of movement that comes next as he goes about delivering each and every puck into a goal until they're overflowing with the stupid round object that failed him tonight.
When he's finally done, Luca's panting as he settles on the ice and unlaces his skates and laying his feet on top of them to keep warm. He knows the Zamboni is going to run through here again in an hour and a half, but right now, he sprawls on the ice and catches his breath as his thudding heart tries to mellow out.
"Luca!"
He jerks in surprise at the familiar voice of Michel shouting his name and pushes himself up on his elbows to see Michel moving briskly across the ice like it's not slick.
"What are you doing on the ice? No, scratch that, what are you still doing here?" asks Luca as Michel reaches him and kneels on the ice at his side.
"Waiting for you. Why did you come back into the arena instead of heading to my car? I thought I was taking you to the diner after the game," says Michel softly as he looks at him, reaching out a hand to adjust Luca's glasses from where they'd started sliding down his face.
"Didn't really feel like going anywhere. I should've texted you, sorry," replies Luca sheepishly, having forgotten all about the plans they'd made after the game he'd played and media mess that followed. "I'm not going to be good company tonight, so I'll get an uber to the apartment. I won't forget to message again, promise."
"You're not going anywhere alone tonight. You were in here beating yourself up for your misses, weren't you? That's rhetorical, Luca, I see pucks in both goals," says Michel softly as his hands start to tense in his lap, like he wants to reach out, and for a single moment, Luca hopes that he will. "Come on, let's get those pucks put away, and I'll take you to our building. I'll reheat our lasagna for dinner, and then you can go straight to sleep. No discussion, okay?"
"I want to say no, but you're just going to drag me out once I'm off the ice anyway," mutters Luca with a half-hearted eye roll.
They haven't been in this situation, since becoming friends, but Michel has dragged him out of the arena before when he'd stay just to lay on the ice and let his mind wander until he didn't feel quite so overwhelmed anymore.
Those were nice nights like this too, where Michel would kneel next to him before laying out next to him instead until Luca was ready to go. Then he would drag him right out of the arena and to his car once his skates were off.
"You're damn right I will," replies Michel with a firm nod, chuckles escaping seconds after Luca arches a brow at him. "Okay, that was totally unfair. I was trying to be serious."
"Michel, I hate to break it to you," starts Luca in as serious a voice as he can muster. "But unless you're working, you don't know what the word serious means."
Michel punches him, but Luca's chuckling so hard that he barely even feels it. He grabs Michel's wrist loosely when he goes to hit him again, and Luca lightly tugs him forward as he leans back, attempting to catch his breath.
Their noses brush, as Michel's other hand smacks Luca's shoulder, and their breaths catch almost instantaneously. Luca pulls back first, cheeks burning as Michel's hand slides up to cup his burning cheek, thumb brushing over the skin softly.
"You okay?" asks Michel quietly as he looks at him softly. -"I know tonight didn't go how you planned, and now your face is all red. You forgot to text, which you never do. I just— are you okay? Do I need to get Roz and Hollzy?"
"No, no, you do not need to get those two!" yelps Luca as he shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wave off the suggestion. "I never should've introduced the three of you. Any time something is up with me, you all suggest getting the other. What the hell is up with that?"
"Because we all care about you, and sometimes you need different people for different things. Like, sometimes you need Hollzy to get you out of your head and walk through plays. Other times, you need Rozanov to help remind you of just how fucking awesome you are. Then you need me for, well, just about everything else," Michel laughs, but Luca knows that he doesn't know just how true his words actually are. Hollzy and Roz do a lot for him, when he needs it, and even when he doesn't think he does. But Michel is the first person he needs to talk to for his day to feel okay, no matter what head-space he wakes up in. "They are practically your dads at this point, and I am the emotional support best friend who's basically been adopted since the first time you called on me despite other assholes wanting to ask you the same question I posed."
"You were the only interesting one in the room, it's not my fault the others had already been assholes to Roz and Hollzy," grumbles Luca as he rolls his eyes, despite feeling more seen than he ever has from anyone outside of the team.
"You did not call on me because I was interesting," snorts Michel as he shakes his head, tapping Luca's cheek gently. "You called on me because you saw me and thought, "I don't know him, but I wanna get this over with, maybe he's harmless." That's literally what you told me, Grumbles."
"I knew you wouldn't be harmless. Fucking reporters are never harmless," huffs Luca as he pouts, just barely, just enough to see Michel's eyes drop and roll before giving him that look that says he knows exactly what he's doing. "But I also was intrigued because we don't get new people for media very often, and I knew that you were an unknown factor. Still glad I broke you into the Cens Media Storm though, right?"
"Of course, I am. Best person on the Cens by far, and my favorite person to ask questions to. Favorite person ever, probably, but you already knew that," replies Michel brightly, his eyes going soft and sweet and making Luca feel like swooning even though that's a bad idea because these feelings are silenced for a reason. "We definitely got way off track, but when do we not. Are you ready to head home? I can heat the pasta up while you take your long shower, then we can curl up and watch that doc on art that you've been telling me about. How's that sound?"
"Sounds like the best kind of night," sighs Luca with a grin as Michel pushes himself up carefully before holding out his hand to him. "I got it. I need to get the pucks gathered up anyway. You should go sit on the bench, the blanket's there waiting. I'll take like fifteen to get this all done and the bag into the equipment locker."
"Sounds like a good plan. I'll go stay warm, want me to toss out the bag?" asks Michel as he tips his head to the side while Luca gets his skates on and starts lacing them.
"Yeah, thank you! It doesn't have to go far, I'm gonna start shooting them towards the bench anyway," replies Luca with a grateful smile as he gets up, grabbing his stick, and heading towards the furthest goal to get started.
It takes about ten minutes to get the pucks into the bag, then he's moving off the ice, undoing his skates, and hoisting the bag over his shoulder as Michel says, "Someone really should get some shots of you doing this one day. Like your fans would love the sight of you holding that heavy ass bag of bucks over your shoulder. They'd also probably enjoy some insight into the way you think after games, why you spend at least half an hour on the ice win or lose."
"Harris has mentioned the same thing, but this is sort of a sacred thing? I could probably talk about it, but I don't want people to see it unless it's like you or the team. It's just one of my things," murmurs Luca with a half-shrug as he adjusts his grip on the bag and gives him a proper look. "Head out to the car, okay? I'll be out in a few. Get yourself some proper heat, Icicle."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," huffs Michel as he stands, waving his hand in the air as he brings the blanket off his shoulders and quickly folds it up. "You want me to drop this at the locker room for you?"
"Yeah, if you don't mind? It goes in the same place," replies Luca with a smile as he nods towards the locker room which is actually in the opposite direction as their equipment room. "Meet you at the car, Michel."
"Five minutes, Luca, then I'm turning off your seat warmer," Michel's laughing despite the threat, and Luca just knocks their shoulders together before turning to jog away.
As he steps into the Equipment room, he feels settled from the rough night. He knows, without a doubt, that he's going to pass out on Michel's couch in the middle of the documentary. But he also knows he'll wake up in the middle of the night with Michel's head on his shoulder, blankets covering them both fully, and the TV still on and waiting for them to choose something else to watch.
It's his favorite thing in the world, even if he can't tell Michel why that is when he asks why he smiles so much despite the way his back always hurts after a night on the couch.