Author: eveliens/eeevee
Genre : humor/ romance (?)
Characters: America, Canada, Russia; one-sided RussiaxAmerica, CanadaxRussia
Rating: T for language and implied sexual situations
Warnings: snarky!Canada, human names, college AU
Summary: Matthew had thought this over a million times, now he just had to voice his idea. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Hey, you want my twin brother, I like you; I think we can work something out here.”
A/N: Can anyone else see Matthew as that obnoxious sports fan? You know, the one that's slightly out of control and a total jerk about the other team?
Part Two
Matthew stood up and cheered wildly, face flushed with excitement. He had always gone to Alfred’s games out of brotherly duty (and because he liked heckling the fans on the other side) but now he had extra incentive to go. Ivan had been puzzled the first few times the bleachers had risen and erupted into deafening screams and whistles, mostly because even after Alfred had explained it (it was Alfred explaining it because neither of them wanted to hear Matthew’s explanation) five times, Ivan still didn’t have a clue about the rules of football. For all he knew it was something Americans did to blow off their sexual aggression without getting in trouble.
Or having assault charges filed.
“A touchdown is good, da?”
“Yeah, it’s awesome.” Matthew panted, completely out of breath. “It means we’re winning!”
Alfred gave a tiny jog along the sidelines with a huge smile and a thumbs up. He gave a wink towards the cheerleaders before heading back to the team.
“You are very excited.” Ivan observed, a small smile playing on his face. Even though it wasn’t particularly chilly and the sun was out, he insisted on wearing his scarf. When Matthew suggested he’d be more comfortable with it off, Ivan glared at him. “You look very much like Alfred when you are excited. And you both have such strong language.”
“Hey, just because that fucking ref can’t tell his arsehole from his piehole the other team scored. The bastard’s either blind or just paid off.” It was probably the latter, given they were against the richest team in the area—fucking private school preps.
The next play several large guys dog piled Alfred.
“He didn’t even have the ball, you cheating sons of bitches!”
Matthew grabbed Ivan’s hand as the Russian tried to rise. He tugged him back down.
“Don’t worry; it’ll take more than that to bring Alfred down. As a kid he used to try to wrestle calves at our Uncle’s dude ranch.” Matthew reassured him (and it better be true because Alfred carried the team and if he was down they were sunk).
They watched as Alfred dizzily sat up and tried to stand. He winced and staggered, looking peeved and stubborn as he tried to step forward. His coach yelled at him to get off the field. He yelled back. Which would’ve worked better if his coach wasn’t built like an angry grizzly bear who cuffed him into the waiting hands of his teammates. This wouldn’t be the first time he had been forcibly removed.
“This game is… remarkably boring.” Ivan said, losing interest now that Alfred was benched. He leaned back a little and stared off to the side where the sunflower field was, his purple eyes distant. Then he seemed to register what he said and gasped pleadingly, “But please do not tell Alfred that I said so! He will take it the wrong way.”
Matthew was slightly offended that Ivan would think that he’d be a snitch but he looked so panicked and freaked out Matthew couldn’t help giving his hand a reassuring pat and nodding.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. But in return, you should come to one of my hockey games. Way more exciting than football.”
“There is a hockey team here?” Ivan perked up with interest, “I saw no facilities…”
“They are off campus.” Because nothing would fit around that big football field all the other sports were conducted off campus except track (which also used the football field and was Alfred’s other love after himself and football) and crosscountry.
“Could you…” Ivan fiddled with the edges of his scarf and a pale blush spread across his cheeks (mmm), “Would you show me? I enjoy hockey very much.”
After two weeks of Alfred constantly shoving Ivan off on Matthew (‘You’re much better at English, you should help him with the assignment’ and ‘I’m busy, can you walk Ivan home?’), this was the first time Matthew actually felt like Ivan was actually seeing him and not a shadow of his idolized twin. He ducked his head, tongue tied, although multiple thoughts about hockey sticks and sex on ice were running through his head. Stupid testosterone! And it wasn’t like Ivan even saw him that way. At best he was thinking Matthew could play guide dog. And you didn’t screw dogs—at least not legally in this country.
“Yeah. Uh, I can. But they’re closed for the three day weekend starting tomorrow.” Matthew stuttered out. “Do you… do you play?”
What a stupid question. Congratulations, you’ve succeeded in sounding like Alfred, with five times more obviousness, Matthew told himself sarcastically. Aside from being a total beefcake, the boy looked like he was built to be a tank on ice. Matthew dreamily pictured him body checking some poor player into the wall and gallantly sweeping the puck into the goal, after running over several more opposing players.
“I may be… I am not sure of the word. I have not played for a long time, since I was a child. I do not know how well I would play.” Ivan replied honestly, fiddling with his scarf some more. He looked up hopefully, “But it is open today, da? We could go after the game.”
“It closes at seven on weeknights.”
“Oh. That would be too late.” Ivan looked so downcast Matthew was sure a half-drown puppy couldn’t compete. He really needed to stop making these dog comparisons. All it made him think of was doggie style… and he blushed again.
Clearing his throat, and the mental images, he offered, “I can text Alfred telling him we went to the rink. I’m sure he won’t mind, since he’s not playing anymore.”
Ivan anxiously looked at him, “Are you sure? I do not wish to upset him.”
Alfred really needed to come down off the pedestal. Like last week.
Matthew sent his brother a quick text. His phone chimed in reply seconds later and he flicked the screen open.
Hockey so GAY! Haha c u 2nite l8. Gonna score!
Matthew made a face and clicked back, Tell your hand good luck then.
The hockey rink itself wasn’t that impressive and Matthew felt faintly embarrassed as they walked in. He wasn’t sure what Ivan was used to. The rink looked rickety on the outside but was clean inside if a little cramped. The hockey team had to share it with the local curling team as well as the figure skates and, shudder, teen night.
The owner nodded at Matthew and looked curiously at Ivan. Ivan gave his best child-smile back, which in turn creeped the owner out.
“Practice isn’t until next week…” Matthew explained, realizing how lame he was. Sure drag Ivan halfway across town and tease him. That was brilliant.
“If you want, I don’t mind leaving the rink open a bit longer while I close up the front.” It was the owner’s teenage daughter who was speaking. She was peeking from beneath her lashes at them, clearly interested in Ivan. She ignored Matthew all together even though they had gone through skating lessons together and saw each other once a week. He pretended like it was because Ivan was just so fascinating he wasn’t worth a glance, although he suspected it was because she had already forgotten him. “It’s not like we get cute new hockey players every day! Want to show off for me hot stuff?”
Matthew gave a thin smile secure in the knowledge that women had a saying that all the good ones were either taken or gay. Well, Ivan was both. He just didn’t know it yet. But she would find out soon enough.
Luckily he left his gear in his locker. Outfitting Ivan was a little harder and he had to resort to picking the lock to his Swedish teammate’s locker. Berwald wouldn’t mind… too much. At least Matthew didn’t think so. He would never to dare to ask face-to-face, but since Berwald wasn’t here, it wasn’t a problem. And he really was a nice guy, even if he did mumble and have a face that made babies faint dead away.
“Does it fit okay?”
“It does.”
“Great. How are you feeling?”
“Excited.”
Matthew gulped at how Ivan’s eyes had turned a few shades darker and felt his crotch tighten a bit in response to the happy reply. He grabbed a stick and a puck and hit the ice.
“I will not go easy on you because you are Alfred’s brother.” Ivan warned and Matthew barked back a laugh, “Please. I beat Alfred to a pulp on ice. He has the grace of a bull moose crossing a frozen lake.”
They stared out easily enough, lazily warming up. Matthew eyed the fine figure Ivan made as he swept around the rink. Rusty, yeah right. They had even gathered up a small audience of staff and lingering customers. And for the first five minutes things were fine.
Next thing Matthew knows he’s slammed up against the glass feeling it shake behind him and having a very fierce Russian pressed against his front. Snarling, and feeling peeved at the unexpected assault, Matthew shoved back, showing he shared some of his brother’s legendary strength. Just because he didn’t flaunt it by chucking around poor farm animals didn’t mean he was a pushover.
Caught off guard, Ivan slid back gracefully. He easily stopped, the puck now in his possession, and gave a smirk. Oh, it was so on.
By the end of the match, the two of them had the small crowd whipped up into a fervor. They were screaming and yelling and divided into two camps. Matthew had found out he was much faster and more agile. He skating to the side then dodged to slide under Ivan’s outstretched arm. It would have worked better if Ivan didn’t clothesline him. He hit the ice with a painful thump, his rump reacquainting with the cold surface via his tail bone, and oofed as his back followed suit. Ivan gave a few lazy swishes and drove the puck into the goal before heading back.
“Good game, da?” Ivan grinned, holding out his hand to help Matthew up.
Matthew pretended to reach for the hand but instead hooked his legs around Ivan’s left ankle and yanked. Hard. He knew the Russian slightly favored his left side and was rewarded as Ivan toppled down like an avalanche. It would’ve been better if he had moved out of the way first.
“Cheater!” Ivan cried out, doing his best to crush Matthew. Matthew growled back and punched Ivan’s shoulder to make him move, “Hey, you cheated first! I demand a rematch. A fair one.”
Ivan paused, probably wondering what Matthew meant by fair (and to be honest, Matthew wasn’t sure what he meant either, but it didn’t matter as long as fair meant he won), then asked, “Can Alfred play too?”
Matthew wanted to smack his head into the ice until it was numb. With a patience that had earned him several unflattering nicknames in high school, he pushed himself free of Ivan. He immediately missed the warm body pressing over him and pretended to skid a little (not slip; he was way too good to slip but even pros skidded on slick ice) so that he partially fell back under Ivan’s arm.
“Sure. We can make teams if you want.”
“I like playing with Matvey, but teams would be better.”
Matthew smiled. It was a smile, although if Alfred could see it he would be quaking in the corner.
“Then why don’t we be on the same team? Then you could play with me and be on a team.”
Part Four
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