NHL Short Stories

first time for everything - cale makar *

WC: 2815
*Sexual content*

The front door slammed shut, indicating that Cale was finally home from his game tonight against the central division rival St. Louis Blues.

"Sorry about the loss," I said to him as he slammed his hockey bag down next to where our shoes sat by the front door, making it easily accessible for him whenever he has practices and games. "You win some, you lose some, right?"

Cale groaned, and I think I saw him slip an eye roll.

I frowned in defeat. Maybe the loss was much greater than just a loss and it got into the poor guy's head.

"Is everything okay, Cale?" I asked as he went over to the kitchen and stuck his water bottle in the fridge.

He sighed, shutting the fridge much more gentle than he shut the front door. "Yeah, everything's fine," he muttered.

I raised an eyebrow and paused the television. "Are you sure? You seem distraught about the loss," I said, meeting his angered, icy-blue glare.

He took another deep breath and slowly exhaled, hopefully calming himself down from whatever was exactly bothering him. "We got blown out," he told me, beginning to walk over to where I was sitting on the couch.

I frowned. "I saw that. I'm sorry, Cale," I responded as he sat down next to me on the couch.

He shrugged, groaning as he leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch. "I'm not sure what happened," he said. "I just want to forget about this loss and move on,"

The Colorado Avalanche played the St. Louis Blues earlier tonight in Denver, and right away from the first period, the Blues racked up three goals in the first twenty minutes of play. The Avalanche didn't look synchronized, hell, nor did they look like a team out on the ice for the first period.

During the second period, it almost seemed like the coaches didn't give any words of encouragement or the players just ignored everything the coaches said, if they said anything to get out of the dumpster fire that was the first period. Same goes for the second intermission and third period, ending in the final score of 10-1.

I nodded my head in distinct agreement with Cale's wish to forget about the loss, but unfortunately, that son of a bitch was plastered onto the record until the season ends, and for the rest of NHL history.

Cale would always be more sensitive and more expressive about his feelings about a rough loss or if he felt like he made some sort of mistake that cost the team a loss. Ever since I started dating him in his twelfth grade of high school (me being in eleventh) and watched him play for the University of Massachusetts and even for Team Canada, I have observed some of Cale's attitudes about certain things in the sport of hockey. Tough losses are a huge thing for him, and they often get into his head.

Luckily, he had a way to relieve that anger and stress, being either playing video games or going on a walk.

But, he had to send his PlayStation 5 to get fixed this past Thursday, and it was too cold and dark to go on a walk in Denver at the current moment. Besides, Cale looked like he just got hit by a bus from the game he just played. So, he was just gonna have to go to sleep with the loss on his mind.

Looking at the flushed, painted pink face of Cale Makar sitting next to me on the comfortable couch, I tried thinking off some ideas that would help him be in a better mood. Especially since I didn't want to hear it all in the morning once again.

After sitting in an awkward silence for a moment or two (who was really counting, and who really cared), I thought of a risky, but fun idea.

I bit my lip and placed my hand on his thigh, causing him to perk his head up from the cushion. He looked at me in confusion, raising and furrowing his faded, brown eyebrow.