-ONGOING-
*mature content*
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Sloane Casey's life takes an unexpected turn when she becomes the new physical therapy assistant for the college ice hockey team. Needing the credits for her physiology studies, she is prepared to handle bruises and sp...
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Malachi
"Fuck no! No way in fucking hell."
"Do you actually want us to die?"
"I would rather shit in my hands and clap than go talk to him. He still hasn't forgiven me for pooping on him."
I roll my eyes.
Cowards.
"Fine. I'll go."
I skate over to him on the sidelines, and they trail behind me, keeping a few metres between us.
"Dad, Theodore wanted me to inform you that he wants you to get him pancakes every morning before practice."
I hear someone falling over behind me. "I fucking what! No I don't! Coach don't listen to him I never said anything I swear."
I turn around and shake my head, seeing him sprawled with his front on the ice. A few seconds pass of him struggling to get up, but then he gives up and drops his head to rest on the floor.
"Hypothetically, if there were pancakes, would there be chocolate syrup? Hypothetically of course..." he mumbles quietly from under his helmet.
My dad shakes his head and a hint of a smile appears on the corner of his mouth. "Get up Morgan. The day you give me a double loop, will be the day Caroline and I make a pancake pyramid for your wedding. However, your future wife will get to choose the toppings because she probably won't piss me off as much as you do. So you better make sure you guys are on the same page."
Theo groans in mock annoyance and after a few seconds of sliding around on the ice, he manages to stand up again and skate away, Martinez and Ford following closely behind.
"Fuck you bro," we hear being yelled from their direction.
I smirk and turn back to my dad. "In all seriousness though, they're wondering when we'll get a new PT. I mean I hope marriage treats Jared well, but multiple guys have been complaining about their sore muscles."
Dad lift his eyebrow at me. "Really? You mean they miss getting some form of validation about their physique that they aren't capable of getting from ladies, by resorting to flexing for our gay PT. No offence to Jared though. He was extremely overqualified for this job and if anything it was a miracle we got him to stay that long after the trauma they put him through."
I lift an eyebrow back at him.
He sighs, "Already looking into it Malachi. You should tell them that they're college level players. They should at least be doing some stretching after practice that doesn't involve them doing other people."
I smile and skate away. "Thanks Coach Dixon."
"And tell Martinez that he has lipstick on his jaw!" he yells after me.
