Oh hello. This is a new story. Probs updating every week or so. Read and review and such.


Chapter One

David is torn between a pair of bulge-enhancing jeans and v-neck or the bubble butt shorts and polo. Staring at his reflection he contemplates the reactions of both outfits before realizing that an apartment full of straight hockey jocks won't be staring anywhere below the waist anyways.

He settles for the jeans and ditches the v-neck for the polo. It will probably blow over better with the boys.

David's friend Max had called him no more than ten minutes ago utterly distressed. Dave convinced him to calm down and speak slower so that he might offer some help. Max complied and David's face broke into a toothless smile that one might call adoring as he was told the cause of the call.

Max's team had just received a 72 inch LCD television along with an HD box and a subscription to all pay-per-view sport channels from one of their sponsors. Being team captain meant that Max was to be the recipient of such a generous gift and that he had to have the entire team over to watch the semifinals of the Stanley Cup.

Unfortunately, not a one of these almost pro athletes knew how the hell to set up the system and thus had Max calling on his tech wizard and best friend, David, for help.

"Stop laughing, Davey, I'm serious! The game starts in half an hour and I swear to god if I don't see that puck drop I'm going to pull a Bertuzzi on the bastard who invented cable television."

David stifles his laughter and says, grin still evident in his voice, "Sure, sure, Maxy. I can set it up, but unless you've forgotten in the past couple of days that I haven't seen you, I don't have a car."

David hears a scoff and then Max say, with a bit of a slur, "Course I remember, dumbass. You don't mind if one of the guys picks you up, right? I've kind of already had a couple and-"

"-and by a couple I mean I'm tanked." David finishes having heard the line that has lead to way too many drunken walks home with a man twice his size slung around his shoulder telling him that he "totally could have gone all the way with that dude" if Max hadn't spilled his drink on him before falling on top of David.

"Haha!" Max yells the last 'ha' trailing off awkwardly, "You know me too well, Davey. Anyways, I already sent Johno over your way since I know you love me too much to refuse me. He should be there in ten which gives you enough time to finish jerking off and get dressed. See you soon, you big baboon."

"In a minute, stupid idjit." David says reflexively, but not without feeling and then hangs up.

David pulls on his polo leaving the buttons undone and then hops into his jeans. True Religions, he thinks, those are okay with the hockey players, right? He plays with his styled, chestnut coloured hair for a minute then runs a haphazard hand through it. Don't want to look too pampered. He gives himself one more once over with his forest green eyes before he heads for the door deciding to wait outside for his ride. It has been over fifteen minutes and Johno hasn't knocked or even honked to signal his arrival.

He pulls on some sneakers and opens the door to a taller man with short blonde hair. His eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Heya, Johnny," David greets, "Took you long enough to get here."

Johnathan shuts the phone he had held by his ear. "There you are. I was about to call Max to see if I got the address right cuz I've been standing here for like, five minutes," he says exasperated, "My knuckles are all bloodied up from knocking on your door" He holds up a hand to prove his point. They're a bit red, not exactly cut up and bleeding.

"Right," Dave deadpans, "You should try using the knockers on either side of you. That's kind of what they're there for. You can't hear much of your fists through three inches of solid oak, especially when I'm fixing my hair in the room over."

"Whatever," Johno says shortly, tossing his head to the side before his eyes light up a bit, "Oh! Speaking of hair, I got mine cut. You approve?" He brings his arms up a bit around his sides and does a twirl.

"I noticed," he admires, "And it's perfect - very trendy."

"Thought you'd like it," the athlete grins, fingering a meticulously styled lock, "I went to that salon you told me about. When the stylist asked me what I wanted done I said I wanted it sexy, but masculine. You should have seen him just gushing over me."

"Well he definitely got the sexy bit right, not quite sure on the masculine, though," he winks as he walks past and Johno's ears go red before he finally gets the insult.

"Hey!" He calls after David, heading to his truck, "I so got the masculine part down too!"


David enters laughing at a joke Johno had made. He toes off his shoes and kicks them by an already impressive pile. The more muscular of the two enters after shutting the apartment door behind him. A pleased smile plays on his lips.

"Is that my most favorite boy in the world I hear?" A voice calls from around a corner.

"That depends," David says, "If you've finally decided that I am a god compared to Sidney Crosby."

Max appears from the kitchen grinning, "Jury's still out on that one." He takes a couple steps toward the pair before taking David by the arm, "One thing's for sure, though. He is my favorite man, but you, you are my favorite boy and always will be." He leads him to where the TV was settled and Johno follows after.

"Everything's here?" David asks kneeling in front of a couple boxes.

"Yeppers, wires and all. All you need to do is put it together. So hop to it, my little tech wiz!"

David inhales deep and begins to sort out the useless from the useful.


"Beer?"

Johnathan turns to face a slightly shorter but more muscular man. His red-brown eyebrows are raised in question as he holds an amber bottle in offering. "Thanks, fotch" he says, taking the bottle from the redhead, "Thought this was a team only sort of gathering. Not that I mind you being here and all."

"It is," he says, both of them are leaning against a wall opposite the television, "I came by to return a pair of gloves I had borrowed awhile back, but Maxim over there insisted that I stay and enjoy the game with the rest of the guys. So here I am."

"Typical, Max," Johnathan says as he twists off the cap of his bottle and takes a swig.

"Sort of glad I stayed though," the redhead says, pointing his bottle at the TV.

"Yeah, one of our sponsors gave that to Max after we won that last one. It's pretty impressive if you ask me."

"Huh? What?" he says and then clues in, "Oh, no. I wasn't talking about the TV. I was talking about that brunette Maxim brought with him."

"David?" Johnathan says. His face is unreadable.

"Is that his name? Do you think he's taken? He looks absolutely dee-lish." A pink tongue grazes the bottom lip as he pushes off the wall.

"You had better not be thinking what I think you're thinking, Reid" He warns, "Max would be real pissed if you did anything to hurt David." Among others, he adds mentally and then immediately shakes it from his mind.

"I'm not going to hurt him, I am merely going to introduce myself," Reid says, his voice is covered in mock innocence, "Besides, he's practically begging for attention in those jeans." He takes long confident strides towards the boy and catches Johno muttering something about a whore. "Hey," he says, "you just about finished there?"

"Uh huh, just need to turn on the television and you guys are set," David pulls out from behind the television and stands up. His eyes are level with broad shoulders, but having been always surrounded by athletes he is used to that. His eyes travel up past sinewy neck muscles and a strong jaw, past full, curved lips tugged playfully upwards in each corner and a nose that may have been straight at one point, but nevertheless attractive up until he meets a pair of gorgeous green eyes. Not exactly the same colour as his. They are brighter in hue and a touch yellow.

"Oh, hello," he says, his mouth slightly agape.

The redhead's smile deepens, "Reid."

"Wha?"

"My name, it's Reid. I play for the Roughbacks. You're David, right?" His lips part minutely to hint at a set of straight white teeth.

"Yeah," he says, his voice wavering in the slightest, "Donnelly, right? I've seen you play a couple times. You're good."

"Thanks."

"You should watch for your backhand though," David says. Something in his eyes shift and he regains composure, "you slice a bit when you come in from the left,"

Reid's smile falters, "Right. I'll be, uh, sure to take care of that."

"Good," he nods curtly before brushing past Reid to save the remote from being spilled on by a drunken defensemen, "TV's working now, boys, everything's all good!"

A unified cheer is the response as two dozen boys clamber into the viewing area. David slips into the kitchen feeling satisfied with himself. Reid hears Johno call at him, "Shot down, brother!" and then laughter.


"You're getting pretty good at that, you know."

David turns to face the direction of the voice, "Katrina! I didn't know you were here. How are you?"

He beams as he walks over to give her a hug, "And what do you mean 'You're getting pretty good at that?' Pretty good at what exactly? Looking fabulous, I hope." Katrina always seems to bring the homo out of him.

"I've been good. I just stopped by to say hello to everyone while I dropped off the boyfriend." Her cheeks dimpled as she returns the smile, "And what I mean is that you're getting pretty good at keeping a straight face whenever a studly pucksman is thrust at you. Just try and keep your brain from malfunctioning every time they introduce themselves and you'll be one of the boys in no time."

"Ugh, heaven forbid I end up like one of them," David says dramatically throwing his green eyes upwards in a faux prayer.

"Heaven forbid you end up with one of them," Katrina jokes and then, more seriously, "I swear, Thomas spends more time with you boys then he does me."

"Aww," David coos, placing an arm around her shoulder and softly running his fingers through her auburn hair, "If it makes you feel any better he's improved immensely these past few months and after the next tournament the season is over so he'll suddenly have so much time on his hands that he'll need a pretty young thing like you to fill it for him."

Katrina elicits a giggle, "You always know what to say, don't you?" Her hazel eyes meet his deep green ones, "Max is lucky to have your silver tongue to get him out of trouble. I can't even count the number of times you've helped him out of the holes he's dug for himself."

"I'd say it'd be somewhere in the hundreds," David grins, "Anyways, you have yoga tonight, right? I'll let you go. Call me later and we can make plans for drinks. I have some gossip that is better discussed over a couple of appletinis."

Katrina lets out a little squeal as she hugs him, "Ooh, I'm excited! Okay, see you soon!" She glances over David's shoulder as she leaves the kitchen and her smile turns into something a tad devilish.

David looks over and sees Johnathan standing close. "Oh, hey, Johnny." He greets, meeting the taller man's eyes, "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Me and Katrina always go off into our own little world when we're together. What's up? Shouldn't you be watching the game?"

"Nah, I'm not really a fan of either team," Johno shrugs taking a spot across from David holding his beer but not drinking it.

"Really? I always pegged you as an Oilers man," David muses, eyes flicking to the blonde's face.

"Nope, I'm a Devils fan through and through," Johnathan says making eye contact, "My daddy raised me to appreciate teams that are actually good." David frowns. "What? Are you telling me that you actually like those useless boys?"

He crosses his arms and throws him a glare, "They're not useless, they're great, and they've at least made it to the finals once in the past five years. Nothing you Jerseyites can say."

"Psh, whatever." Johnny takes a long drink from his beer, face neutral.

"So," David says after a long pause, "any other reason you're hanging back here instead of watching the Flames get slaughtered?" his eyebrow arches faintly and his tone is only the slightest bit suggestive – so subtle you would miss it nine times out of ten.

"Do I need a reason to hang out with my favorite brunette?" Johno counters.

"I suppose not," David says, giving him a toothless smile, "But are you sure you don't want to be in there with the rest of the guys?"

"Only if you're right there with me," Johnathan teases.

David pushes off of his spot against the counter, "Alrighty, but I'll only stay if we both can make fun of the announcers. They're always so terrible."

"You got yourself a deal, boy," Johno says while sweeping his arm in the direction of the lounge, "After you."