Kink Me! #28
Kink Me! #28
closed to new promptsWelcome to Kink Me! Merlin #28!
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Title is from Stompin' Tom Connors' "The Hockey Song" - beacause apparently I'm just that Canadian.
Like a Burning Flame, 1/?
The arena was flooded with red and gold, alive with the excitement of the thousands of people already inside waiting for the game to begin. Children with jerseys hanging to their knees, brandishing foam swords and shields; boisterously loud men and women arguing the merits of this player or that player, the coaching staff - even the owner, Uther Pendergast himself; teenage girls Merlin’s age and younger, dressed in clothes he wouldn’t tend to think were overly appropriate for an ice hockey arena, giggling over program booklets with the Knights’ photographs inside; and everyone, fans of all shapes, sizes, ages, and dispositions, in between. Gwen and Morgana proudly led their charge through the throngs of people buying tickets at the box office, through the concourse where lineups at concession stands were already growing, and toward a pair of lifts tucked away in a corner. A few fans nodded politely or said hello to Morgana, who patiently fielded the greetings and some overly-personal questions about her relationship with Leon De Grance. Gwen managed to draw her away with a routine of oh-aren’t-we-supposed-to-meet-your-father? which Merlin suspected was often performed.
Merlin felt rather posh stepping into Uther Pendergast’s private skybox; positioned high spectators and players alike and lined up with centre ice, it was like a static litter from which the team owner and president could (pretentiously) watch over his subjects. A small bar, kitted out with alcohol, soft drinks, crisps and chocolate bars, was set up at the back of the room; a television bolted to the far wall, muted, was playing the pregame show which Morgana explained was broadcast across the province for the hockey-loving populace. Four rows of six plush, jet-black seats overlooked the ice surface: definitely a step up from the seats set up around the ice surface - which Merlin decided looked like the most uncomfortable red plastic excuses for seating he’d ever seen.
The Knights and their opponents - the Kitchener Rangers, Gwen informed him - were already on the ice for the pregame warm-up, and as Merlin and the girls took their seats at the front of the skybox he was given a quick rundown of each player, presumably so that (if by some chance he cared enough) he could match numbers to names. “There’s Elyan in nets,” Gwen said proudly. Her younger brother was working his way back and forth across the blue ice - the crease, Merlin reminded himself with a sigh; if he was to be living in Canada for a year he’d better learn the proper way to talk about hockey - scraping up the smooth surface with the blades of his skates. “Number twenty-five - that’s Gwaine,” Morgana grinned. “And there’s Arthur. Nine.”
Merlin frowned down at the ice, watching number nine juggle a puck with the blade of his stick, then lift it high enough to deposit it over the ice into the waiting hands of a little kid, who bounced up and down with his (her?) prize held aloft. Arthur gave the kid and his friends a wave before skating off to join his teammates in a passing and shooting drill. “The little kids love him,” Morgana stated the obvious. “He’s the captain and a local, so he’s probably the most talked-about guy on the team. Same with Elyan - local and the starting goalie. Kids and girls go nuts over the two of them”.
Beloved by little kids? That was a world away from the Arthur Merlin had met on the first day of school.
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Apparently finding out who would be your lab partner for the year was akin to finding out whether you’d been cast in a coveted role in a West End production. Merlin hung back as the crowd converged on the corkboard where Mr. Kilgrath had pinned his list of biology lab partners. Reactions to the list were stifled - at least until everyone started walking away; some grins, some groans, some outright enraged expressions. When most of his classmates had moved on, Merlin approached and scanned the list for his name…and there - Merlin Emrys, partnered with Arthur Pendergast. Merlin wracked his memory to remember which hand had gone up when Kilgrath had taken attendance to no avail. He supposed he’d just have to wait and see during attendance the next day. He scribbled and circled the name in his day planner as he turned, but taking a step forward without looking up found himself stumbling into a somebody standing almost directly behind him. The surprise and his near-fall scattered Merlin’s planner and pen to the floor, and he watched helplessly as the pen rolled out of reach. “Watch it,” the other bloke said sharply. “You don’t use your eyes in Scotland?”
Irritation flared, and Merlin drew himself up to his full height. “It’s Wales, actually, and we do. But we also appreciate a little something we call personal space, mate.”
The lad - could he be called a lad, really? He was tall and burly enough to be about thirty - narrowed his eyes, and shoved Merlin back against the corkboard with the meat of his palm. “Don’t appreciate respect though?” he snarled.
“Come on Lee; any more sexual tension and you’d be marking your territory on his leg,” another voice cut in. Around Hulk’s - Lee’s - shoulder, he caught sight of a vaguely familiar bloke with blond hair and a bored expression. “At least get a room so the rest of us can see who we’re stuck with this year”.
Merlin met Lee’s glare with a bright smile, but he was a little breathless when he said, “Go on, mate - jog on”. He waited until Lee had stalked off around the corner, then wilted a little and bent to retrieve his planner. One of blond-bloke’s mates, a long-haired hippie type with the beginnings of rather fetching scruff, stooped to get Merlin’s pen. “Thanks. And thanks mate,” he said to blond. “Don’t really fancy a row on my first day”. Suddenly bold, he stretched out a hand. “I’m Merlin”.
Blond was already analysing the list of partners, and at his extended silence Pen-Retrieving-Scruffy-Mate took Merlin’s hand in a firm grip. “Gwaine. Lovell,” he said by way of introduction. “This is Leon De Grance, and that smoldering-eyed sensitive type is Lance Dulac”. Gwaine grinned at Lance’s groan. “That’s Arthur,” he said with a sharp jerk of his head in Blond’s direction.
“Arthur - Pendergast? Brilliant - I’m your lab partner”. At Arthur’s continued silence, Merlin began to feel like he wasn’t being let in on some pertinent information. “You are…Arthur Pendergast?”
Finally Arthur shot him a glance that Merlin decided was supposed to make him feel very small. It worked. “Are there any other Arthurs in the class?”
“Erm - well, I -“
“Great,” Arthur said loudly. “Fantastic. I get partnered with someone I can barely understand. Just so you know, I miss a lot of time. You’ll have a lot of work to do on your own.” At Merlin’s blank stare, Arthur rolled his eyes. “I play hockey”.
Oh. Oh! “You’re Morgana’s brother”.
“Step-brother. Yeah. Like I said, the team travels, so I miss a lot of time”.
“No worries; I’m not half bad at biology, and I can probably give you copies of notes and lab reports you miss”.
Arthur snorted. “Whatever you want, Martin”. With that, Arthur neatly sidestepped Merlin and headed down the corridor, while Merlin was left with his cheeks and ears burning.
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“Erm - seems like fun,” Merlin hedged. “It must get more exciting when the match actually starts, though, doesn’t it?”
Gwen looked disappointed that Merlin wasn’t already foaming at the mouth, but Morgana laughed. “It usually does. And if not we’ll see if we can’t find some way of getting Gwaine to make it more interesting”.
Merlin frowned. “Does he do that often?”
“It’s kind of his job,” Gwen said. “Gwaine’s the kind of player you love to have on your team but hate to play against. He’s a professional pest - you should’ve seen how much the fans here hated him when he played for Owen Sound! But when he was traded everybody in London totally forgot about that. Now they love him”.
“Probably because he and Arthur get along so well”.
Merlin sighed and let Gwen and Morgana’s voices wash over him. Below them, the crowds which had gathered near the glass to watch the warm-up had dissipated; some were returning to their seats, while others were in the process of either heading toward or back from the concessions stands. Watching throngs of people balance armloads of treats - drinks, nachos, popcorn, hotdogs, pizza slices…damn it, Merlin’s stomach was starting to growl - he began contemplating hurrying down to the concourse and snagging a plate of chips or something. He opened his mouth to propose that surely-delicious exploit to Morgana and Gwen and his voice, raised to be heard above the excessive bass in the arena’s music, came out all too loud when the music abruptly cut out. An announcer’s booming voice warned that the lights would be turned out soon for the opening ceremonies, and would everyone please return to your seats as soon as possible, thank you. Gwen and Morgana cackled at Merlin’s embarrassment, and he forgot about running downstairs. He turned his attention back to the crowd instead, the flowing current of colourfully dressed people changing again; parents herding children back to their seats, steps quickened to get back before the lights went out. Gradually the empty seats filled with jerseys in mostly-white, jerseys in mostly-red; caps and hoodies, flags and swords and shields bearing the Knights’ logo. After a few minutes the lights dimmed, and the disembodied voice of the announcer urged the fans to make some noise for your 2012-2013 London Knights!; a dull thrum rose from the crowd and vibrated in Merlin’s chest; the result of hundreds of pairs of hands beating inflatable thundersticks together in appreciation and anticipation of the introduction of their home team.
The dark and the silenced music lasted only a few moments before the screens under the scoreboard erupted with light and driving rock music, a video introduction of apparently impressive plays - passes, goals, saves, hits, celebrations - overlaying a performance by Nickelback. Merlin groaned. Of all the rock bands to have been chosen, it just had to be Nickelback; whatever deities were in charge of hockey games and season-opening ceremonies must be holding one hell of a grudge against skinny Welsh lads. His distress went unheard and unheeded, of course - Morgana and Gwen were beaming, eyes glued to the screen, watching as lads - young men, really - from previous seasons were highlighted. Players with dyed red-and-gold hair and scruffy beards grown with varying degrees of success; fans throwing stuffies over the glass onto the ice; the Knights’ mascot dancing wildly in the aisles...
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…Arthur’s face, triumphant with goals scored, was prominent, Merlin noted. As the video tribute wound down the announcer, nearly drowned out by the terrible music, loud cheers and roar of thundersticks, welcomed everyone to the 2012-2013 season and invited them to say hello to your Londonnnnn KNIGHTS. One by one, the London players were summoned, each skating hard for the first painted blue line on the ice surface as the crowd roared their appreciation.
”Number nine, the captain of your Knights, from right here in London, Ontario - Arthurrrrr Pen-der-gaaaaast!”
If possible, the noise grew louder when Arthur emerged - Gwen and Morgana, already standing and applauding and having dragged Merlin up to do the same, bounced a little and beamed at one another, giddy. Their joy in the moment, fawning over their hometown team, struck Merlin with a fierce homesickness - rugby matches at Millennium Stadium were like this (tens of thousands more voices added to the fray, of course); all fiercely loyal fans happy to bedeck themselves in their team’s colours and cheer at the top of their voices for their favourite players. He nearly lost himself in the sadness that swamped him, wishing to be home in Ealdor, pulling an all-nighter in Cardiff with Will and Freya, stumbling drunken with laughter and joy down St Mary Street while chavs and barely-dressed girls yelled insults and taunts from pub doors.
And then Gwen nearly deafened him with a piercing ”WOOOOOOOOOOO!” when Elyan was introduced. She seized Merlin’s shoulder with both hands and shook him as she bellowed and bounced, trying to draw him along in her enthusiasm. Merlin managed a self-conscious cheer, only mildly terrified by calm, soothing Gwen seized with madness.
When each Knight was standing along the blue line, the announcer went on to introduce the coaching staff and everyone who worked for the team, from president/owner Uther Pendergast to the eleven-year-old stick boy, Mordred. Helen something-or-other sang the Canadian national anthem, and then Merlin found his attention wandering again as Uther Pendergast made a speech about the promise shown by the lads in the preseason, and how the fans were in for a treat this year, and blah blah blah. At long last the lights were brought back up and most of the Knights players retreated to their bench, leaving the first line to strap their helmets back into place and get ready for the start of the game: the real face-off, which took place after a ceremonial face-off. Merlin face-palmed.
He could feel Gwen shaking with laughter beside him. “I promise it doesn’t always take this long to get started,” she giggled.
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You've captured it so perfectly, all the colour and noise and bustle and fanfare. Laughing at the Kitchener Rangers, that's hubby's hometown, although he never liked hockey.
Can't wait for more school interaction - Arthur's not making himself well-liked, is he? But I know the crush is coming. Bring it!
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There will be plenty more at school, as well - because apparently even though it's primarily a hockey prompt I can't stop myself trying to develop it as much as possible. =P
Thanks for the comment; I hope the rest doesn't disappoint!! <3
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Thanks for commenting, anon!! <3
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Looking forward for more!
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Thanks so much for the comment; I hope the rest doesn't disappoint!
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Whoever would have believed that there were only so many times Merlin could watch a swarm of heavily-padded blokes balanced precariously on thin metal blades skate up and down a relatively small surface of ice in pursuit of a black rubber disc? The Knights were ahead 2-1, and currently the clock was ticking down thirty seconds as both teams huddled around their benches while coaches gesticulated wildly. Merlin stifled a yawn, if only to avoid disapproving glances from Uther Pendergast. Morgana’s father had joined them in the skybox about halfway through the first period and Merlin knew immediately where Arthur had received his talent for making people feel like insects under a microscope. Uther Pendergast had borne Morgana’s introduction without removing his gaze from Merlin, whom Uther had pinpointed the instant he’d walked into the room. His handshake was one hand-breaking squeeze, his greeting coolly reserved. Uther was positively doting over Morgana, however, and when she coaxed him to sit and help her and Gwen teach Merlin the rules of the game Uther lounged in his seat easy as a giant cat, allowing Merlin to escape back to his seat beside Gwen.
He was honestly making an effort to be engaged and to learn the rules; he really was. If their situations were reversed he’d appreciate Gwen and Morgana trying to see his favourite things from a Welsh point of view…it was difficult to keep up the façade of being engaged, though. Merlin kept being distracted by the mascot - a knight with an oversized helmeted head - parading around the arena with a trail of small children pursuing him. For the most part the rules of the game were fairly simple - like other sports, the entire point was to put the thing in the goal, but in terms of the intricacies of the sport Merlin’s understanding was hitherto limited to:
1) The game was really (quite impressively, Merlin allowed) fast - fans roared approval and disapproval before Merlin ever noticed anything impressive or untoward had just happened.
2) Shooting the puck from your team’s end of the ice down to the other team’s end of the ice made the referee blow his whistle and bring everyone down to your end and have a face-off. But then again, sometimes it didn’t.
3) The whole situation of officials was utterly bollocks: three of them milling around the ice, getting in the way of players and the puck. Merlin didn’t care what hockey protocol dictated - a tiny hop as the puck or insanely-armoured players were charging toward you did not constitute self-preservation. One of the linesmen had already been checked to the ice to roars of laughter from the crowd.
4) Ice hockey fans were just as quick to verbally attack the referees for not calling a penalty against the opposing team as they were to attack the referee for calling a penalty on their team when, really, the two plays were exactly the same.
Really, the most exciting bit was when one of the Kitchener players hit Arthur hard into the boards, dropping him to the ice nearly head-first, and Gwaine immediately leapt on the assailant. Next to Gwen, Morgana flung herself to her feet and started shouting encouragement and insults that, out of context, would probably have her arrested; Uther and Gwen were a little more restrained. Uther, in fact, looked mildly embarrassed. On the ice, Gwaine and the Ranger flung their thick gloves off and fell on one another with awkward-looking punches at which Merlin had a hard time not laughing. In the end Arthur was fine, and Gwaine was served with the same penalty as the lad who’d hit Arthur in the first place. What an accomplishment, Merlin thought. “What was the point of that?” he asked Gwen quietly. Derisively.
“It’s a matter of honour - the boys jump in and help one another. Gwaine more than most," she added with a smile.
Merlin snorted. “So Arthur can’t even defend himself?”
He gasped when Gwen’s knobby elbow dug into his ribs. “Of course he can,” she hissed. “It’s the principle of the thing. Everyone watches everyone else’s back. Just because you don’t like Arthur -“
“I never said I don’t like-“
“Lance told me what happened at school”.
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Gwen looped her arm through his. “Arthur may be an ass sometimes, but he’s actually really sweet. I bet he’s just been waiting for a chance to apologise”.
Merlin rolled his eyes without Gwen seeing. “Maybe”. Though three weeks, during which Merlin saw him every single day in biology, was a long time to hold off on an apology.
Another cheer went up from the crowd. Even Uther was brought to his feet with a terrifying roar. Morgana leaned down to Gwen and Merlin to be heard.“Stop gossiping there!” she teased. “You just missed Percy absolutely deck Eborly!”
Merlin and Gwen's simultaneous ”Damn it”s were uttered in very, very different tones.
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Especially Merlin's observations and “Arthur may be an ass sometimes, but he’s actually really sweet. I bet he’s just been waiting for a chance to apologise”
Haha.
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