Teammate Tussle

Authors Note: Max Taylor belongs to me! Peter Jankovic belongs to tmhsticks_ on Instagram! Fritz is shared. We plan on putting up drawings of these two pretty soon!

CW: Includes violence, strong language, and implied homophobia.

Peter laughed as Fritz pounced on the slow moving puck. He looked like a little kid pretending to be a cat. Fritz glanced up at him and smiled, lifting his helmet. His light brown hair fell into his face, sweaty. Peter took the puck away and skated back to the center line. His helmet had been tossed to the side, letting his black hair flow freely.

The Jets had just finished practice and a few players had decided to stay on the ice for a bit longer and mess around. Max was at the other end taking shots on an empty net. Peter was working with Fritz on his speed but the two had started to play. Another forward was with the two. He let out a grunt of frustration and tapped his stick impatiently. Fritz pulled on his helmet as Peter messed with his puck. The forward took a shot by the face off dot and Fritz saved it with his chest and held onto it. Peter tapped his stick once and skated up before he shot his puck at the net. Fritz tossed his puck away and went to block the new biscuit headed for his net. He blocked it with his pad but Peter giggled as he sped into the crease for a rebound. Fritz laughed, "Traitor!" He spat. Peter tucked the puck into the net nicely.

"Jesus, Peter can you focus for one fucking second? This is why you have only scored 2 goals this season." The forward huffed, skating to him. His eyes were cold as he glared at Peter, who was an inch taller. Peter immediately shrunk, he was only just getting comfortable with Fritz and only liked him and Max. His reply was stuck in his throat and all he could let out was a choking sound. The forward rolled his eyes and took a few pucks to shoot again. Peter slowly skated to the bench and drank water.

Max glanced down at Peter and caught just the end of Peter skating to the bench. Confused, he stopped shooting and went onto the other side of the rink. He paused as the forward let one rip on Fritz, who let out a soft 'oomf' sound as he saved the puck. The forward skated in a tight circle as Max went up to him. Max was big, but smaller than him, "What's wrong with Peter? Did Fritz get upset with a shot at the mask?" He tried to joke, and smiled gently. The forward stopped, a foot away. He scowled, "Peter cannot take practice seriously enough. Fritz needs this practice, we all know that. He's slow on those pucks and Peter was being a distraction."

"What do you mean? Fritz is a great goalie! And Fritz loves having fun. Peter has been going through a tough time and he-" The taller man cut him off, "Yes. You would defend him wouldn't you? I can only assume his tough time is being seen as a queer hanging out with you all the time. But honestly even if he didn't he is too soft." Max grabbed his jersey.

"NEVER EVER SPEAK OF HIM THAT WAY! His name is too amazing to ever be in a trash mouth like yours. Also, he could beat your ass easily in a fucking fight you pussy." Max's rage was building up inside him. The few skaters left stopped. Peter froze and turned slowly to see them. Max had pinned the taller play against the boards. They both showed no fear. Fritz skated up to them, offering a small smile.

"Guys let's all just calm down...Max let him go," Fritz said, his accent thick and shaky. The two boys glared at him, "NO!" They scowled at their goaltender. Peter quickly pulled up behind Max and tugged on his jersey, letting out a silent plea to not make a scene. Max shoved him away, maybe a little too roughly as Peter almost lost his balance. The forward let out a cold laugh and pushed Max off of him at the distraction.

"You think you're so fucking great don't you? Just because you can fight doesn't mean you should. Don't be an idiot Tay. Go home." He looked Max up and down, teasing him to fight. Max didn't care anymore and pulled the forward to the ice in one swift motion. The wind was knocked out of him and clutched his chest as Max skated away, pissed. He grabbed his sticks and left the ice in a rage.

The few other skaters slowly skated off as Fritz helped the forward up. Peter watched everyone leave and picked up the pucks, taking his time. He wanted to process everything that had happened. Did he cause all this? Has Max been fighting him already? Why had they fought? What words were exchanged? Max walked out of the locker room, carrying his gear and walked to the bleachers. He sat down on the cold metal and watched Peter clean up, who had not yet noticed him.

Max felt immense guilt rush through his body. Peter may be blamed for the fight. He suddenly felt the urge to distance himself from the rookie. Though, that may be hard since they did live together. Max loved him and he wasn't afraid to say that. But, their teammates and the league had never fully approved of that. Maybe he was making Peter's life harder. He sighed and went to the car, not caring to wait for Peter in the cold rink. Or maybe he just didn't want to be seen waiting.