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Apr 6

It Doesn't Matter - Part IV: The Gallery Show - Nico Hischier

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Title: It Doesn’t Matter Part IV: The Gallery Show Author: Tory / @tkwrites Relationship: Pre-established: Nico Hischier x Lena Moss Summary: Nico and some of his teammates attend Lena’s gallery show. They see the nude drawings that brought Nico & Lena together (read Part II and Part III for more details) and Nico's teammates tease them both for them. Also, Lena sticks up for what she wants. Warnings: lots of teasing, contention between Lena and her professor about how she should spend her time, J & L Hughes are mentioned as side characters. I had a lot of this mapped out before their fall from grace, so they do still feature in it quite a bit, but their character arcs in relation to my other fics aren’t expanded Word count: 5,500 Comments: Well, after a year and a half of teasing it, Lena’s gallery showing s finally here! I hope you like it as much as I’ve liked writing it! If you enjoyed this installment of Nico & Lena’s story, I would love to hear from you! Comments, asks and reblogs are all welcome and much appreciated.

It Doesn’t Matter Part IV: The Gallery Show

They were late.

It was true that they were in town and didn’t have a game that night, but he’d forgotten to put the signing with season ticket holders in his calendar. Or someone in the office had? It didn’t really matter. It appeared a week before the gallery opening and even though Nico had tried to get out of it, his captaincy obligations kept him at the Rock for the first part of the evening.

He told her he would come into the city and help her get settled and it bothered him that he couldn’t follow through with his original plan.

Lena assured him it was fine. Just that morning, she’d told him, “I never expected you to stay for the whole thing. You’d just be looking at the same art over and over again. I wouldn’t even do that if I didn’t have to. And anyway, I’d rather have you there at the end of the night, so it’s a win, win in my book.”

He’d accepted the kiss she offered, still feeling an uncomfortable grumbling in his chest that he’d had to go back on his word.

Now, even though the cold December air was biting at his neck as they walked up to the gallery, Nico felt like he was finally where he was supposed to be.

The ground floor of the New York Institute of Art was all windows, so they could show off their students’ work and entice passersby inside and into taking one of the pieces home.

He spotted Lena as he was pulling open the heavy glass door. She was standing a few feet away, talking animatedly with a man that looked to be in his seventies. He was glancing between her face and the painting she was pointing to, listening to whatever she was saying in rapt attention.

When Nico left for practice that morning, she’d still been in her favorite little cherry printed pajama set. Tonight, she was wearing a pale green blouse and a black pencil skirt that dipped under the curve of her ass so well, it ought to be illegal. Her pink hair was pulled up into the kind of messy bun that looked effortless, but he knew took an outrageous amount of time.

If they were alone, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. If they were alone, he’d be pulling her into the bedroom before they had to leave. If they were alone, he’d beg her into her glasses so she could role play a secretary he could seduce before her boss came back, or maybe a teacher holding him after class, or maybe…

Shaking his head, Nico followed his teammates through the door, reminding himself they weren’t alone. Not only were they not alone, they were at a gallery opening for her art. He could lose his mind over this skirt another time. Right now, he needed to be here for Lena the artist, no matter how hot she looked.

“What do we do?” Dawson asked, coming up to stand beside Nico.

Jack, Luke and Timo followed, lining up as if they were about to run drills. While he’d invited the rest of the guys too, he didn’t expect them to show. They all had partners to go home to.

“You look at the art,” he said, unsure what else Dawson thought they would do in a gallery.

“We don’t have to…talk about it or something?”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “You won’t have any homework if that’s what you mean.”

It finally dawned on Dawson what he was asking, and he blushed. “I’ve never been to one of these before.”

“You just look,” Nico said, gesturing to the art hung on the walls, “and if you see something you like, sometimes you can buy it.”

That seemed to clear things up in his mind and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Do we go in a specific order?” Jack asked.

Nico shrugged. How was he supposed to know?

Jack seemed to take that as his answer and strode straight through the middle of the gallery to the back row. He stopped in front of the landscape that was taking up most of that wall and put his hands in his pockets. If Nico had to guess, he’d assume Jack probably had a practiced, studious expression on his face, trying to mimic the other guests.

Luke and Dawson followed him, falling into place on either side of him.

Timo, who stayed by Nico, glanced around the room.

“I'm waiting to talk to Lena,” Nico explained, gesturing to her.

Timo nodded, but didn't leave.

Keeping an eye on the older man who still had Lena locked in conversation, Nico walked over to the piece on his left, only to find the first portrait of himself.

She'd finished it beautifully, adding the subtle folds and texture in his trousers, the dips and swells of his arm muscles, the sweep of hair falling across his forehead.

Taking his place beside Nico, Timo tilted his head as he studied the drawing. After a minute and tipping his head the other way, he asked, “is this you?”

Even though he knew his teammates would see the drawings, experiencing them seeing the art in real time was different. Embarrassment he’d promised himself he wouldn’t feel ignited in his gut.

When he didn't answer, Timo looked over and laughed.

Nico cleared his throat, feeling the embarrassment rise into his cheeks. “I posed for Lena for her figure class.”

A smirk flashed in Timo’s eyes and his brows quirked with suggestion.

Before he could say whatever he opened his mouth to, the click of heels announced someone walking up behind them.

Nico turned and felt a ridiculously large smile take over his face.

“You made it!” Lena exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck.

Pulling her against him, he let the worry of Timo’s impending teasing drop away for a moment and dropped a kiss to her mouth, just because he could. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

Even though she was in a pair of wedge heels, Lena was still found herself a few inches shorter than Nico. Feeling triumphant, she beamed up at him. Having him here — not only that: having him here and having him bring friends — was the cherry on top of an already incredible day. Lots of people had already complimented her about the drawings and the painting she had in the show, and it felt so good to be recognized by people who weren't her family or professors.

Before she could give into the temptation to beg another kiss off of him, she turned to hug Timo.

“He was saying you did this,” he said, as they broke apart, gesturing to the drawing.

Nico expected her to blush, but instead, a bright, proud smile took over her face, “I did.”

“It's very good.” To his credit, Timo held it together for a few seconds before the snickering started. “Is it for sale?”

Lena laughed. She’d been expecting the chirping.

Dr. Brown had taken one look at this particular portrait and asked Lena, “how long have you been in love with him?”

“I —” she’d stammered, “how can you tell?”

“The care you’ve taken with the lips,” Dr. Brown said, tracing one of her elegant, dark fingers through the air above the bow of Nico’s full bottom lip. “The whole drawing feels like looking through the rose colored glasses of new love.”

She flipped to the second sketch and laughed delightedly, “and he’s obviously in love with you. If you’re not dating him, you should be.”

It’d been a shock for a complete stranger to see through both of them so easily.

“Your art doesn’t lie, Ms. Moss,” Dr Brown had said after flipping through the rest of the sketches. “I told you if you got in a vulnerable enough situation you’d start drawing the humanity in your subjects and you’ve done that here. You’ve excelled at showing this handsome young man’s humanity. Wonderful job.”

The praise had been incredibly buoying. The closer the gallery showing came, however, it became increasingly obvious how likely it was that everyone else would pick up on the love so clearly on display in the drawings. Without fail, someone in her cohort commented on it each time she worked on them in class.

There was no way his teammates, who knew him so well, were going to overlook it.

“I think it'd look nice in my guest room,” Timo continued casually, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

Now Lena was blushing.

Still, she laughed. “I think I might be able to part with it if the price is right.”

Nico's eyes darted to hers, wide with betrayal until he saw the teasing expression in them.

“The rest of the series is another story, but talk to me after,” she said with an exaggerated wink.

“There are more?” Timo demanded, a shifty, wicked grin taking over his face.

Nico dropped his face into his hands.

“How many are there?”

“Six.”

“You posed for six portraits?” he repeated, eyes darting to Nico with obvious surprise in his face.

“Is this what finally got your head out of your ass?” he asked Nico in Swiss German, pointing a thumb at the drawing.

Hating the way Timo saw right through him, he answered, “technically? No.”

Timo rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

Lena glanced between the two Swiss men, wondering what information, exactly, was being exchanged.

Nico shook his head to dismiss his countryman and took Lena’s hand, “show me your favorite.”

She was leading him across the gallery when he heard Jack’s voice.

“It has to be him,” he said vehemently. He was talking so loud, Nico was certain the entire gallery could hear him.

“How would you know?” Dawson countered.

It wasn’t enough that they stood out from the crowd, who were either in suits and dresses or the edgier clothing the art students wore. Even Lena’s blouse had a subtle striped pattern that on closer inspection turned out to be snakes eating their own tails. All the guys, with the exception of Timo, who always looked put together in a way none of the rest of them could manage, looked a lot like they’d wandered in by accident.

And now, Jack was practically yelling.

“I’d recognize that ass anywhere.”

Before Nico could process enough to be embarrassed, Dawson asked, “but why would there be a naked picture of him here?”

“Because Lena drew it.”

Nico looked over just in time to see Luke poking a finger toward the small plaque next to the drawing of his nude back.

Even though he’d seen the drawing a few times since that initial, terrible and wonderful modeling session, it still felt strange seeing himself through Lena’s eyes and through her art. It was nothing like seeing a photo of himself.

It really was a study of his body in the truest sense of the word. She’d defined and sharpened the muscles in his calves and he could see the ropes of his hamstring where it attached to the back of his knee and the large muscles of his glutes. Anyone who knew one would know he was a hockey player. No one just had legs and glutes that disproportionately big compared to the rest of their body. No wonder Jack recognized him.

In the drawing, the way his head was tipped forward contrasted drastically with the strength of his body so obviously on display. It made him look unsure somehow.

The way she captured him spoke of tenderness and acceptance of all his of facets.

It made love glow in his chest.

“See, I told you!” Jack practically yelled, positively cackling with delight. “I told you it was him.”

Cringing, Nico raked his hair back. It wasn’t even his teammates seeing him nude and portrayed this way. They’d seen him naked plenty of times in locker rooms and they’d even seen some of those different facets after difficult losses. It wasn't that. Having Jack be so loud while everyone else was discussing the art in hushed, reverent tones, made his skin crawl with embarrassment. He should have known better than to invite them.

Jack looked around and when his eyes landed on them, a wicked smile crept onto his face. “Lena!” he exclaimed, slinging a comfortable, flirtatious arm around her shoulders, “just the woman we were looking for!” Guiding her to stand in front of the drawing, he asked, “we were just wondering if this is Nico.”

“It is.”

“So he posed nude for you?” he asked, voice thick with innuendo.

“He did,” she said, unable to keep the smug smile off her face. “He’s a perfect example of the ideal male form, don’t you agree?”

The smile slipped right off of Jack’s face and Nico felt his cheeks go hot even as laughter burbled into his mouth.

“This guy?” Timo asked, jutting a thumb in Nico’s direction. “Really?”

“Hey,” Nico complained.

Upon getting the reaction she’d been aiming for, Lena patted Jack on the chest and turned back to Nico.

“Here,” she said, gesturing to a painting on the far wall with one hand as the other slipped into his, “this one is my favorite.”

Following her across the gallery, Nico found the large forest picture she was leading him to wasn’t a painting at all. As they came closer, he realized it was made of thousands of tiny colored disks tacked in a shadow box.

“What is this?” he asked, reaching out to touch it. She caught his wrist before he made contact.

“They’re cut up aluminum cans,” she explained. “You can see sections of the logos,” she said, pointing out a splash of white that jutted into a green disk. Even that small corner told him it was part of a Sprite can.

“What is this made of?” Jack asked from behind them, voice awed in a way she'd never expected from him.

Lena jumped a little. She hadn’t known the boys had followed them. “Aluminum cans,” she repeated. “They punch out the discs and hang them in patterns. I like this one in particular because it’s so immersive. You always see a forest, but when the heat kicks on, or someone walks really close to it, the leaves actually flutter in the breeze," she explained. "And it's a great use of found objects to create art.”

“What does that mean?” Luke asked.

Lena turned to him, her brows raised.

“What's a found object?” he clarified, shrinking a little.

“Oh, that just means that the artist used a physical object they found to create the art. They didn't just draw or paint. It's recycling in a way, but also a way to make people see the world differently. Generally, when you see a can of soda, this,” she gestured at the artwork, “doesn't come to mind. But I bet you'll see the colors in aluminum cans a little differently from now on.”

Eyes raking over the piece again, Jack breathed, “that’s so cool.”

Lena had never heard him be so reverent.

“Who do I talk to if I want to buy it?” he asked suddenly.

Staring at him for a moment, Lena wondered if she'd heard him right. She didn’t expect any of the guys to go home with art. If pressed to choose someone, she would have chosen Timo. Jack didn't seem the type, especially for something as experimental as this piece.

“You can talk Samson at the desk,” she said, pointing to the back corner.

Without another word, Jack marched over, beaming when the man at the desk looked up at him.

“Hu,” Nico said.

“Yeah,” she agreed, glancing over at him.

Over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Dr. Brown for the first time since Nico arrived. “C’mere,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him across the gallery, “I want you to meet Dr. Brown.”

He followed her toward a tall, brown-skinned woman in her 50’s.

“Dr. Brown, I wanted to —”

“Oh, Lena. I was just talking with someone who wanted to meet you.” The older woman turned away from them and called to a bald man walking toward the door, “John!” He turned and she gestured for him to come join them, “come back here.”

Dr. Brown turned back as he approached, already making introductions. “Lena, this is John Maples. He runs a very successful gallery in mid-town. John, this is Lena Moss. She drew the undressing series.”

Beside him Nico felt Lena go rigid as they shook hands. He had no idea who this dude was, but she sure as hell did. “You do beautiful work, Ms. Moss,” he said, still grasping her hand. “I'd love to talk about showing some of your art at my gallery.”

“Oh,” she breathed quietly.

Dr. Brown was looking between the two of them, a huge, proud smile on her face.

It was like Nico wasn't even there. Finding he was the least important person in a conversation was a bit of a new feeling. He found he didn’t mind it much. It was kind of nice to be in the background, not expected to answer questions. On the other hand, this must be what Lena felt like when a fan came up to them and tried to box her out. Most times when that happened, she stayed quiet for a while before politely breaking into the conversation to pull him back to whatever they’d been doing.

Before he had to do that, Dr. Brown’s gaze found him. “And this,” she said, a smile blooming over her face, “must be her model.”

All eyes snapped to Nico and he smiled uncomfortably. He was so used to being recognized and introduced as a hockey player, he had no idea how to respond in this context, especially now that every person in this conversation had seen his naked ass.

“Dr. Brown, this is my boyfriend, Nico,” Lena said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, as they shook hands.

“You as well.”

Nico noticed something like disappointment flash in John's eyes before they also grasped hands.

“You were a very brave model,” he said.

Unable to help himself, Nico slipped an arm around Lena's waist. “She had the harder job, I think,” he said, squeezing her close, “I just had to stay still when she told me to.”

Once their brief moment of laughter passed, John pulled a nondescript black piece of cardstock from his wallet and handed it to Lena. “Here's my card. Call me when you’re ready to sell. I know these drawings would do very well in my gallery.”

“Oh, the drawings aren’t for sale,” Lena clarified.

“You're sure?” Dr. Brown asked, her proud smile slipping a little. “I've had at least ten people ask to buy one.”

“No,” she said, thankful her voice came out steadier than it felt. “They're not my usual style, and it's not something I'd really like to pursue doing more of.”

Dr. Brown's lips pressed into a thin line and John stiffened. “What is your usual style?” he asked, voice turned haughty.

“One of my landscapes is by the door. That's what I really enjoy doing.”

“I'll have a look on my way out,” John said politely. “Speaking of which, I've got to jet. It was great to meet you Lena. Always good to see you, Jeanette.”

Nico watched him walk straight to the door and out into the night. Fucking asshole.

They stood with Dr. Brown for a moment longer, awkwardness hanging between them like a weight. Lena knew Dr. Brown would like nothing more than to have one of her students pieces featured in the Maples Gallery, but the last thing she wanted was to get pigeon holed into an art style she didn’t like just because some smarmy man in midtown decided it’s what he could sell. Plus, there was no way she could ever do that to Nico.

“Well,” Dr. Brown said stiffly, “it was nice to meet you, Nick.”

“Likewise,” he said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. If this was the art world, he was glad he just played hockey. He could never handle all this drama.

She walked away and struck up a conversation with a group of people looking at one of the sculptures. It was the kind of art Nico never understood. All he saw was a pile of junk.

Lena deflated beside him and he pulled her closer.

She let herself be held for a while as her mind turned over again and again, wondering if she just earned herself a failing grade in Dr. Brown’s class.

“If you want to sell them, you can,” he said into her hair.

Something half way between a sob and a laugh burst out of her. She pulled away wiping at her eyes.

The protective instinct in Nico flared and he cupped her face, “I’m serious, häsli.”

“I know you are,” she sniffed. “But I don’t want to. If I do, everyone will expect me to keep doing figure drawings, and that’s not what I want to spend my time doing.” She paused for a moment, letting the feeling of his thumbs brushing lovingly over her cheeks ground her. “Especially not when John Maples is the one trying to sell them. That guy's a total dick.”

“Want me to beat him up for you?” Timo asked casually as he walked up to them.

Lena barked a laugh. “No, but thanks for offering.”

“Just say the word,” he offered.

“It’s okay,” she said, patting him on the chest.

And it was okay. It wasn’t like she was strapped for cash, especially since Nico wouldn’t let her contribute to the rent. One of the most freeing things that came with a boyfriend who played a sport professionally in the highest league, was that she never had to worry about selling her art to support herself. She would never have to twist her vision to fit someone else’s in order to make a sale. It was incredibly freeing to know she could concentrate on making the art she wanted. Not many artists got that luxury.

“What time is it?” she asked, reaching for Nico’s wrist.

He was wearing a fancy Swiss watch with a matte black face and shiny black hands and numbers, but the way she was looking at it meant the six was at the top. She wasn’t great with an analog clock to begin with, let alone with reading one upside down. Her brows furrowed.

He stole his wrist back, glancing at it briefly. “Half past nine.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out in one big huff. “Only thirty more minutes,” she said with a sigh, “I guess I should get back to networking.”

He shot her an indulgent smile before pressing his lips to her temple. “You’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” she turned her head to catch his lips in a brief kiss. “See you in a bit.”

When he and Timo finally found the younger guys, they were in a back corner of the gallery, gathered around the final drawing.

“Yo, Cap,” Jack greeted as soon as they walked up, “is this actually after you fucked?”

“Shhh!” Nico hissed. This was not the place to throw around questions like that. Not when Lena was trying to be taken seriously.

“What?” Jack whined, rubbing the side of the head from where Timo had smacked it. “Isn't that what afterglow means?”

It was only then that his eyes darted to the plaque, which read, ‘Afterglow by Lena Moss; graphite on paper’

He had no idea why she called it that. They hadn't even had sex when she drew this picture. How could it possibly be afterglow?

As his eyes traveled back up to his own rendered face, though. he had to admit the title did fit.

His expression was soft, but the right corner of his mouth was tipped up just enough that his dimple was the barest shadow in his cheek. That, combined with the small thatch of his pubic hair that was visible where the blanket had slipped low, made it look a hell of a lot like he'd just been fucked by his dream girl.

He tried to think back to that moment, of finally eating enough, of her fingers brushing the inside of his thigh, sending his whole body into overdrive, of trying to talk his dick down and then falling into a deep, easy sleep. Maybe he'd been dreaming of her.

Once the gallery showing was over, and people started filing out, Jack bounded up to Lena.

“Want to go dancing?” he asked, his face alight and animated. “There’s a really great club just down the street.”

Nico walked up behind him, a proud smile on his face and fondness in his brown eyes. The other boys from the team weren't far behind.

Lena felt like she was on top of the world. Her boyfriend (she still wanted to shout it from the rooftops and say it over and over again - her boyfriend, her boyfriend, her boyfriend!) came to support her art. And not only that, he brought friends who weren’t afraid to learn and ask questions. It was the kind of response she’d always wanted from her friends back home. She never needed anyone to act like something they weren’t. She just needed them to try.

“Sure,” she said, laughing at Jack's eagerness. “You might have to carry me home, though,” she told Nico. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll last in these shoes.”

Nico’s eyes traveled down her body, over the lush curve of her hips and her thighs he knew were perfect under that skirt, to her curvy calves, until they landed on the black heels she was wearing. He never knew how women put up with them. She'd already been standing in them all night.

“I’ll carry you wherever you want,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist.

Jack rolled his eyes, letting out a playful gag.

“I like this skirt,” Nico said, his big hand cradling her hip as they waited to get into the bar.

Lena snorted. Had she known they were going dancing afterward, she would have have worn a different outfit. A pencil skirt and wedges didn't exactly scream clubbing. She looked like the only twenty-something there who’d just come from her office job…at 10:30 in the evening.

She felt ridiculous.

“What?” he asked, glancing over at her, “you look hot in it.”

Nico didn't really care about fashion. He liked things that were comfortable. He'd wear something different if the occasion demanded it, but generally, he was a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. Which wasn't bad at all, it just meant that he didn't understand her hesitations about feeling out of place, or like she was wearing the wrong thing.

She decided it was easier to just take his compliment as it was intended.

“Thanks,” she said, feeling her smile get bigger as his dimples popped in his cheeks.

Jack, who had elbowed his way to the front of their group, finally caught the eye of the bouncer and they were ushered inside.

They grabbed a table in the back and Lena and Nico sat to keep it as the rest of the guys went to the bar. Her feet were tired and sitting for a while sounded nice.

A while later, Timo came back with a bottle of beer for Nico, a mojito for Lena and a pretty blonde for himself, who immediately pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Sipping at her drink, Lena relived the last few hours in her mind. Despite all the awkwardness with Dr. Brown, she still felt giddy and full to the brim with happiness.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said, leaning over to kiss Nico’s cheek.

He swallowed the swig of beer he’d just pulled into his mouth and said, “you know I wouldn't miss it.”

“I know,” she agreed quietly. “I’m just not used to people supporting my art, and I really appreciate that you do.”

“Of course I do, häsli. I love you,” he said.

The sheen of tears that gathered in her hazel eyes made his chest ache. How long had she been waiting for this?

“Ich lieb di,” she said quietly.

Even with her pronunciation being a little off, hearing his language from her pretty lips still sent a kaleidoscope of butterflies into giddy flight in his chest.

"You're so cute," she teased, leaning in to kiss his dimpled cheek.

When Luke and Dawson wandered back to the table, she downed her drink and pulled Nico onto the dance floor. If they were here, they might as well get some dancing in.

In general, unless he was well and thoroughly drunk, Nico didn’t particularly enjoy dancing. It always felt unnatural and he never knew what to do with his hands.

Dancing with Lena was different. Maybe it was the years of friendship under them, the fact that he knew he could be goofy and awkward with her and it wouldn’t change the fact that she’d still be his friend, still be in his bed that night. He didn’t feel the pressure to be smooth and suave like he often did with other people. She’d seen him at some pretty low lows and she still somehow liked him.

So when Lena tugged him onto the dance floor, he didn’t protest. He held her close, and moved with the music as best he could and tried to just live in the moment.

The next morning, Lena woke, fed Cookie his breakfast, brushed her teeth and started on her morning stretches. She was in downward dog when Nico strolled into the open living room, kitchen area of their apartment in nothing but his boxers.

“Wouldn’t mind waking up to this every morning,” he said with an appreciative quirk of his eyebrows as he flopped into the couch with a cup of coffee.

She snorted.

Her phone dinged five times in a row as she moved through pigeon pose, trying to warm up her hips before her run that morning.

After finishing her stretches, she poured herself some coffee and sat next to him on the couch. He was so rarely up at the same time as her, she couldn’t resist taking the time to have a little snuggle before starting her day.

“Who was messaging?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Leaning forward to pick up her phone from the coffee table, she thumbed it open.

There were a string of messages from her friend, Angel.

I thought you might like to know that you and Nico are low key trending on Devils fangirl Twitter right now.

Every other message was a screen shot.

The first was the original tweet from someone with the username @/DevilsGoss:

The Devils come to this club pretty regularly, so I've seen Nico here many times and can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him dance, and I've never seen him dance like this. I don’t know if they arrived together, or if he met her here, but he spent the whole night with this girl and they left together. I’ve never seen him look so cozy and comfortable with someone. Do we think the Captain’s off the market?

Below the block of text was a slightly blurred, hazy photo of them dancing. Nico had a full, claiming hand on her ass, keeping their hips pressed together. She was smiling, open mouthed as if she were just about to laugh, and he was looking down at her with a sexy smirk tugging at his lips. The angle of the photo meant that his face was more visible than hers, but most of her defining characteristics were still on display: the tattoo of art supplies on her ankle, the three glimmering earrings marching up her left ear, her pink hair.

Beside her, Nico huffed out a frustrated breath. “I hate this account.”

“Yeah?” she asked, glad her voice came out more even keel than it felt.

In theory, Lena knew she didn’t look like other hockey WAGs. Truthfully, she didn’t think she looked like a WAG in any professional sport. They were all done up and proper and pretty. She had the pretty part down, but as long as she was being true to herself, she’d never look the rest of the part. Even if she took her nose ring out, or put in something more subtle, her pink hair would keep her from blending in with the sea of blondes and tasteful brunettes.

“They put up pictures of everything,” he grumbled. “Makes me want to not go out anymore.”

She hummed in agreement, internally wincing in anticipation as she scrolled lower to what she assumed were reactions.

The final pictures were indeed screenshots of the thread. From pictures of dramatic, cartoon crying, to one person who said, “NOOOOOOOOOO!” to another who just posted, “but…but…but…” It was nice to find they were mostly about him.

Near the end, someone had written, “at least she’s interesting and not just another blonde,” and Lena felt a smile break through her hesitation. She’d never really thought her differences might be a good thing.

“Well,” she said, turning to Nico, “at least we look hot.”

He barked a laugh and clinked his coffee mug against hers. “That is true.”

Then, she saw it. At the bottom of the last screen shot, someone said, “well, I guess we'll always know where she is in the WAG picture.”

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