Heaven Sent (Loki/Asgard Fanfiction - Aislinn's Story)

Chapter Fifty-One

As the sun set, the field lights blazed bright and all around her, people shrugged into jackets and sweaters. Aislinn smiled. Midgardians were far more sensitive to the cold than she was, as she found the brisk early autumn air refreshing.

But, even if she didn't, somehow she thought watching Steve on the sidelines was enough to keep her warm as well. He prowled the side like a caged tiger, animated both when his team did something right and when they didn't. Unfortunately, tonight was one night where they did more wrong, as by halftime, the score was twenty-one to three, with the Falcons on the losing end.

The second half was no more promising, as the Falcons came out to receive, only to fumble and lose possession of the ball. Aislinn winced as Steve spun about and fired the clipboard he held at the ground. It skipped over the turf, then landed facedown about twenty yards down field. She couldn't make out his words, but he yelled something and even from where she sat, the fury on his face was beyond evident.

Little by little, the bleachers emptied as the score ran up to forty-two to ten. By the time the game ended, only a handful of people remained on Somerset Valley's side of the field. The air was frosty. People blew on their hands to thaw them out.

The Falcons lost fifty-six to ten.

Aislinn sighed as she stood and arched her back. Although she tolerated the cold far more easily than the heat, sitting on those bleachers was still dreadfully uncomfortable, and she sighed with relief as she arched her back to stretch out stiff muscles.

What remained of the crowd thinned out and she made her way down to the chain link fence separating the field from the stands. The players all congratulated each other in a show of good sportsmanship, while Steve went to retrieve his clipboard, which remained where he'd thrown it for the rest of the game.

"Hit the showers," he snapped to his players. "I'll meet you all in the weight room after."

"Yes, Coach."

Aislinn bit down on her bottom lip at the anger in Steve's voice and the deference in the voices of his players. They were a dejected-looking group of boys, heads down, shoulders slumped, as they filed off the field.

"I want to know why the hell my receivers forgot how to catch," Steve growled to one of his assistant coaches. "And where the hell was my defense? Forty-six unanswered points. Two pick-sixes. A kickoff returned for a goddamn touchdown? What the hell happened out there?"

"I'll have a talk with Boyden and Carson," one coach said, tugging his cardinal and gold baseball cap from his head to rake his fingers through his hair.

"And I've been all over my linebackers," another coach said. "We'll work on it."

"Yeah, we will." Steve glanced toward the scoreboard and shook his head. "We're a better team than this and Hunterdon isn't nearly as good as we made them look tonight. We need--" He looked over his shoulder and must've seen her, for his scowl faded and he winked before turning back to his assistant coaches--"to work on a lot for next week. Go on in. I'll be there in a minute."

With that, he turned toward her. "Hey, baby, how're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she told him, stepping up to link her fingers in the fence. "Tough loss, Coach."

He rolled his eyes. "We looked like a bunch of girls out there tonight."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is."

She gave him a long look. "Really?"

"You know what I mean."