Alexandre | 61 | Callus, Damiano

Alexandre found himself smirking at the concept of the pair of them being ‘fine,’ a certain smugness spread across his countenance that spoke more loudly than any words could have. By the end of the intervention meeting, which had felt like it had been hours long, the dark-haired figure was slumped in the chair, long legs stretched out nearly all the way across the table. He was leaning slightly to the side that Damiano was on, and if he let himself shift any more, he might’ve been touching shoulders with the captain. However, it didn’t take a genius to map the other man’s rigid posture and make the assumption that the contact would not be received well, so he remained where he was, arms crossed loosely across the open pockets of his team sweatshirt.

He almost allowed himself to react to the comment about looking ‘pretty’ for the press, but ultimately just continued to fidget with his hands and shift in his seat, keeping himself silent and on Damiano’s nerves, if the little side glances were anything to go by. It wasn’t his fault he struggled to keep his attention in one place, nor that he couldn’t sit still. It was half of what gave him an edge on the ice, although it didn’t necessarily benefit him in situations like these. It wasn’t like it was the first time someone had referred to his good looks in a negative light. In fact, it was the most common chirp he received on the ice. He never really minded–was it really such a crime to look this good? Yet, something about the front office saying it struck a chord with him, and he found himself tuning out a barrage of potentially empty threats in lieu of processing it further, only coming out of his trance when his elbow brushed up against Damiano’s side and caused him to turn, which in turn made Alexandre sit up a little straighter in his seat, shifting to mirror the captain’s obvious efforts to avoid contact.

After the man beside him had said enough convincingly pretty words to the people who had elected him captain, they allowed the pair to leave. It was almost miraculous, Alexandre thought, that someone who lacked so much charisma had somehow managed to single-handedly weasel the pair of them out of the situation without so much as a required team building activity or a disciplinary consequence of some kind. With no help from him, he noted, in a manner that was surprisingly self aware. As everyone began shuffling out of the room, the dark-haired figure followed behind his captain like a lost puppy, wondering if these eerie, labyrinthine tunnels ever became less haunting. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find his way around them like Damiano did, but, then again, he had a penchant for getting lost. Most of the time it was something he could simply roll with, but in this particular case, he was concerned that getting lost would cause him to find himself in a situation that he didn’t want to be in. He wasn’t sure what went on in these tunnels, and he knew that only bad things could come from seeing things that weren’t meant for his eyes. He found himself continuing to study Damiano to give his eyes–and short attention span–something to do. He noticed the way the shorter man’s clothing was neat and seemingly lacked wrinkles, the way he walked with purpose, the way he turned back every so often to reassure himself that Alexandre was still behind him, then made an expression of annoyance as if he were frustrated to receive that reassurance. It was perplexing, he thought, that he seemed to both desire the man’s presence and abhor it.

At last, the pair returned to a familiar area of the facility, and Damiano turned once more, giving a particularly thorough look at the man behind him. Alex wondered what was going on in his brain at that moment, although he knew that, even if he asked and his captain answered, it wouldn’t be a satisfying enough answer for him. He continued to be on his best behavior, saying nothing about the meeting or provoking the Italian until they had arrived back to the team housing. As Damiano entered the code to open the door, Alex used the sheer force of his body to check him into the door, allowing him to turn to face him as he continued to press his weight into him, his hands leaning against the wall, inches from Damiano’s head. Although he was physically intimidating, all of this was a joke to Alexandre and his actions weren’t purposefully threatening. He simply enjoyed the physical contact and the fun of throwing his weight around, and he had an even match in Damiano.

Leaning in just slightly, Alex voiced in a low tone, “how do you suggest we ‘handle things,’ Captain?” As usual, he hadn’t exactly thought about the fact that the implications of this statement were far from innocent until they left his mouth. Still, he didn’t mind, and he released Damiano from this hold after a matter of seconds, hearing the security features finally disarm and allow the pair of them in. As they began to walk up the stairs together, he continued, “I saw there’s no fun team activities on the itinerary for the week. Is there anything fun to do in this city, or am I going to have to drop the gloves with you every time I’m bored?”

✦✧✧

Following the interactions with Damiano, Alexandre said goodnight to his captain and let himself into his lonely apartment, feeling lost and out of place in the sterile environment. He really needed to get some advice from someone on furniture shopping, and soon. His quality of life was significantly improved by bright colors and plants and chaos, and this apartment lacked any of those elements in dramatic fashion. It didn’t help that he’d somehow managed to forget which apartment Callus lived in, although he remembered it was on the same floor as Damiano’s. Which would have been infinitely more helpful if he knew which floor Damiano lived on, or had any more information regarding that than the fact that they both lived somewhere above him.

Alexandre paced the apartment for over an hour before leaving his room simply to walk the hallways, hoping someone would be out that he could convince to keep him company for a while. He never slept well without someone else in close proximity, and the thought of other teammates being a wall away from him wasn’t as comforting as it should’ve been. He’d managed to get his friend drunk enough the night prior to ensure a companion that day, but it wasn’t a lasting solution. He wandered the halls until security approached him and told him he needed to be in his room during the city’s curfew, which he surrendered to, but failed to sleep nonetheless. There had to be another option than failing to sleep every night. Maybe he could go out into the city and find a girl to keep him company. That’d work. For a while.

✧✦✧

The next day, Alex was the second person to arrive at camp behind his captain. Luckily, the silence between them did not linger for long, as other teammates began to trickle in during the moments that followed. Alex was obviously exhausted and his face continued to throb in retaliation of Damiano’s punches, but the third day of camp was a fairly calm one, and the dark-haired man was beginning to feel like a member of the team. Although he wasn’t doing much to integrate himself into the team dynamics, he’d had a positive interaction with the starting goaltender for the team, the only other man who stood at 6’6 on the roster. He’d wanted to pick Alex’s brain about his play the day prior and what he’d done to disguise his shot placement on one of the rookie goaltenders. Obviously, having gotten four goals past him, he’d done something that had caused the rookie to go to the veteran for advice, and he’d used it as an opportunity to break the ice between them.

The day was a fairly calm one, another day of reviewing the play from the year prior. In fact, it was rather curious that they had chosen game footage from the last time the Hellcats had played the Cyclones, and copious jokes were made throughout the day by the defensemen regarding the fact that, rather than review their mistakes against him, they could make new mistakes against Alexandre on the ice whenever they wished. He didn’t particularly mind the attention, although the lack of sleep he’d received caused him to be a bit less hyperactive and a bit more sullen than normal, simply content to sit in the back of the room and reminisce on what he’d had in Crete before he lost it all. Soon the early morning had faded into an afternoon of drills, followed by a scrimmage where he’d been elected one of the captains based on his performance from the day prior. Teams were pre-decided by the coaching staff, and, as he found out, had been stacked significantly in Damiano and Cal’s team’s favor. They’d essentially played all of the veterans against Alex and the rookies to see what would happen. They fell, 4-1, with Alex doing all of the heavy lifting on the one goal they did get. They elected to do a shootout at the end of the game for fun anyway, and he was also one of three to score in the shootout out of his entire team. Perhaps if he’d had more energy, he would’ve been able to carry his team to the victory, but he didn’t, and they lost. Somehow, their goaltender was better than the veteran goaltender in the shootout, however, and they managed to win that, although it was entirely for fun.

By the time the dark-haired figure had undressed, put his gear away, and returned from the showers dressed in team gear, he was ready to go home and annoy Cal until he gave in and watched movies with him until they fell asleep again. Yet, when he emerged, Damiano began accusing him of stealing something from him in a prank. In fairness, he had pranked one of the rookies earlier in the day by taping up his gear and hanging it from the balcony of the press box, but he had insisted that he hadn’t done this, and had been so adamant about this that he had offered to stay behind and help him look for his dumb necklace, primarily so that he could say ‘I told you so’ when they eventually found it. Cal stayed behind too, primarily because of a poorly-concealed fear of what might happen if the pair of them were left alone together for any amount of time, although he was less willing to help with the actual search for the item. They didn’t even notice when the doors clicked shut and all security measures were enforced for the night in accordance with the city’s curfew.

✧✧✦

It had been a few hours by the time the necklace fell out of the emergency pocket of Damiano’s gear bag when he’d taken everything apart and shaken it for the third time. At this point, Alexandre wasn’t even smug anymore, he was simply tired, and barely reinforced his point before sprawling out on the floor of the gear room, lying back in defeat. Cal nudged him with his foot idly, sighing softly and saying, “well, I think I need a drink after that. Anyone care to join me?”

Of course, as they tried to exit, all three were met with the harsh reality of the time of night it had become, and the fact that they were no longer allowed to leave the building. The blond was halfway through his explanation of the team bunker situation when a revelation hit him, and he paused mid-sentence to ask Damiano about some alcohol that the pair of them had confiscated from the rookies recently, which had apparently been stashed somewhere in the facility for safekeeping. Within minutes, the pair were sprawled out on the floor of one of the rooms meant for living and sleeping, passing a bottle of alcohol between them as they lazily moved through a few games of cards which became increasingly incoherent as time went on.

Before long, Alexandre was drunk enough that he’d transitioned from casual touches and pushes against his friend to directly climbing in his lap, almost crushing the blond from the weight. Cal was only about 5’10 and, though he was more muscular and big-bodied than Alex as a defenseman, the dark-haired man’s length was unmatched, his long legs stretching far off the smaller man’s lap and supporting some of his weight.

“God, you’re like an oversized dog,” the blond whined, doing nothing to push the forward off of him, and instead shifting his weight to accommodate the new body that he was cradling horizontally in his lap.

“Hold me,” Alex murmured incoherently, more than half gone from the mix of alcohol and overwhelming sleepiness that had been threatening to take over for the majority of the day. He nestled his head into the blond’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth of another body in such a cold and damp place, but his eyes continued to linger on the figure across from him. In a sense, it was more comfortable for him to fixate on one thing in particular with the room spinning as it was, and Damiano wasn’t that horrible to look at, after all. There was a wide-eyed innocence in Alex resulting from his current state that seemed almost boyish, something endearing and immature all at once. At the first sign of physical touch, all of the restlessness that seemed to control his body throughout the day simply stopped. It was as if Cal’s calmness had penetrated Alexandre’s hyperactive exterior, sending a quiet gentleness rippling through him in his subdued state.

By the last game of cards, Cal was basically playing both of their hands, forcing Alex to continue to hold his but physically manipulating the younger man’s hand with his own to put down one set of cards separately from the other. He was maintaining an easy conversation with Damiano, nothing too deep or serious, but it wasn’t difficult for the blond to see how his captain’s gaze faltered and fixed on the sleepy man pressed against his chest every so often, trailing off his response as he physically forced himself to tear his gaze from the dark-haired figure. What an odd dynamic, the defenseman thought, noticing the reaction that Alex seemed to illicit from their captain after what seemed like the thousandth time that he watched it happen. They were all too intoxicated and exhausted for pretenses, and even if they hadn’t been, Cal seemed confident that Alex would’ve managed to get a reaction out of him one way or the other. Even after the man in his lap had fallen asleep and Cal had needed to adjust the way he was cradling his extremely oversized baby like a tired father, Damiano was still taking interest in his sleeping form, even if he was continuing the internal struggle between staring and keeping his eyes fixated anywhere else. Even as he himself drifted off to sleep, the defenseman considered the curious actions between the pair, and wondered what would come of them in the days that were to follow.