ordinaryillusion:
High energy and voices a touch above the acceptable decibel range carried from the indoor ice rink to the dorms nearby, the thrill of the game, even if came in the form of practice matches, set them off into another round of cheers and nonstop chatter, and Ethan was right in the thick of it. Usually, a quiet soul, preferring to keep to himself games were the only time he was boisterous — the sport demanded it, and he delivered. As Canadian natives, ice hockey ran in the Price family bloodstream, especially in the children. Age changed a lot of things, while his siblings were content to leave the sport as their hobby, Ethan decided to pursue it as a career, it helped that he had nothing else to fall back on; academics weren’t his strong suit, he severely lacked creativity and the musical gene definitely skipped him and dominated in his younger sister instead, so really, hockey was all he had going on.
Adrenaline soon gave way as tiredness suck in. The second he fell into one of the many beanbags that littered the common room, sharp pains rippled across his body, making him involuntarily flinch in response. His teammates were not forgiving, and the ice was even less. A brief look around told him this was a sentiment shared by everyone, but no one complained, and rightly so, there were all here for the one thing, what were a few bruises and split lips? It was all for the game.
Flexing his fingers, multiple times, to dissipate the pain in his knuckles, Ethan simply listened to the chatter that took over the since the cheering had died down, mind bouncing from thought to thought landing on nothing particular until a dark-haired boy decided to wander into the room and held his attention making it a struggle to shift his focus onto anything else after that. A small smile tugged at his lips as he listened to Harper call them out for quite possibly the hundredth time this season, while he had a point, nothing to quench the energy they held during games. Looking up at Harper was a mistake. Instead of meeting his eyes, Ethan caught the looks his friends sent him, causing him to take a sudden interest at the colour of the floor as he tried his best to cool the blush that began to creep across his cheeks.
He was briefly aware of the concerned chiding from Harper and some snark back at him from his teammates, possibly telling to relax or something along those lines - it had become routine talk at this point, but the rest of the conversation was lost on him as he tried to think of something to say, and it took his name being called out for him to snap back to reality to find more than a few fingers being pointed in his direction.
His confusion must’ve been apparent because, after an eye roll in his direction, Miles spoke up, “Price first. He took a nasty hit - completely deserved it mind you, who else would willingly try and block my shot? Only a damn fool, but anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah…I shoved him into the plexiglass.” Laughter filled the air and even Ethan couldn’t help but join in.
“Hey, saved it though didn’t I? Worth it.” he defended but the pain that drummed through his hand told a different story. “But yeah, I’ll go first.” With one strong push, he lifted himself off the comforts of the beanbag and in three strides he was beside Harper. “Hi,” he greeted the other with a warm smile on his face, “Sorry we keep doing this to you, I can just put an ice pack on call it a night. You don’t hav—” But the rest of that got cut out by a sharp yell in their direction.
“Sorry about your face, mate!"
"My face?” he asked turning back to Harper, “What’s wrong with my face?”
As his last name entered the air, Harper found his fight and flight responses activate -- leaving him mentally spinning in place as he wondered if he could point as someone else first and ask them to proceed before Ethan. A chance to collect himself, work on his words or put on a good enough front -- anything at all -- but before Harper managed to open his mouth, Ethan had already agreed. There was a sound, something akin to a laughter and a snort at Mile’s comments to place himself elsewhere, wondering what his parents’ would have said if they knew their son was spending his time around people with such roughhousing behaviors. Of course they’d hate it, just as much as they disliked Harper’s choice of career. His dad used to watch sports and had previously spoken about his disappointment in not having a son to share his hobby with, but that didn’t stop either of them from being overprotective.
His thoughts were cut short as Ethan’s voice cut through, flashing him a glance and a crooked smile to booth. He didn’t want to accidentally stare too long or seem to eager to speak to the other man on their own, but neither did he have it in him to be rude or cold. Instead, Harper rolled his eyes to ease up, but was once again cut off from being able to properly speak with Ethan.
Was there something wrong with his face? Harper had to bite his tongue as to not blow his own cover as reply with something dumb and cheesy, as there was absolutely nothing wrong with Ethan’s face. It was perfect at any angle and that little crooked smile on his face never failed to make Harper gush in secret. That perfectly framed hair, his jawline, his near devious eyes that seemed sharp and playful all the same... it was a dream and a privilege to see it all up close -- even if he knew darn well it wasn’t what Ethan had asked for. He had to remind himself to breath, his eyes shifting towards anything up the hallway to keep his mind busy. “I could leave it with an ice pack, but I also happen to see a rash of sorts and I really think I should clean it up and patch it. It won’t do you any good if it gets infected, alright?” That sounded professional, did it not? It keep it casual, don’t blow it.
“You can sit down either at the desk or on the bed, whatever suits you the most,” Harper added as he finally opened the door back into his small room and gestured at Ethan to step inside. Nothing new, they had pulled over this routine before. He ventured off in search of his first aid kit, only keeping his ears on his guest. “I’ll never understand why you guys find it so funny to play it rough. I mean, what would you do if any of you broke something before a big game? So reckless...”