Chapter Text
Minho wasn’t sure how he got suckered into this. Jisung had asked him to, and he was never good at saying no to him. It wasn’t like he had any better plans on a Thursday night and a Timbits hockey game was as entertaining as any other, even if the players were young and clumsy. Minho had a hard time finding a parking spot, having arrived late due to the Tims lineup being horrifically long. That’s what he got for going right at shift change for the hospital nearby. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and weaved through the few people gathered around the entrance to the ice rink, holding two coffees in his hands. People pulled their loved ones out of the way, calling out apologies as they did. He made his way to the concrete entrance to the stands, looking around for Jisung. He heard him long before he saw him.
“Min!” Jisung’s voice rang out over the hum of people talking and the sounds of sticks and skates gliding across the ice during warm ups. He waved Minho over to him. Minho carefully stepped up onto the concrete that held the metal benches in place, shuffling down the narrow space until he was able to sit down next to Jisung.
“Thanks for the coffee, he’s going to be elated you’re here.” Minho smirked, handing over the one coffee, grateful to have his hand back.
“Yeah yeah. It’s a triple triple, just like you like it.” Minho cracked open the plastic lid on his cup, folding it back and taking a sip. “As disgusting as that is.” Jisung made a sound of protest.
“Yours is a double double!”
“No, it’s two cream, one sugar, I’m cutting back.” Minho lied through his teeth, it was a double double. He had tried to cut back on the sugar in his coffee, but old habits die hard. Jisung glanced over the lid of the cup, seeing the tell tale ‘DD’ scribbled in white marker on the lid.
“Liar.” Minho stuck his tongue out at him. He felt the bench shake beside him, a shoulder bumping him as his coffee sloshed around in his cup.
“Oh, sorry buddy.” Minho’s head whipped around and he made eye contact with a man. He had kind eyes, and a cute nose. The rest of him was cute too, when Minho focused his eyes to look. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a nice smile.
“That’s OK, no harm done. My coffee didn’t spill.” Minho made a split second decision as the stranger didn’t turn away from him after their interaction. “I’m Minho.” The stranger shuffled slightly further away so he could turn to face him more.
“Chris. Which kid are you here to watch?” Minho sighed, looking out onto the ice, seeing the players circling each other still doing warm ups.
“Number 67 on the blue team, my friend here invited me to watch his little cousin play.” Minho smiled as he skated past, waving when he did.
“What a coincidence, my best friend’s cousin is on the same team, number 71.” Chris pointed towards a smaller child, clinging to the boards where they became his team’s bench. The coach seemed to be encouraging him to let go and skate around. Minho hummed. Both sides of the rink began to buzz with activity as the kids wobbled on their skates getting into position to begin the game. The puck drops, sticks slap against each other as each team fights for the piece of plastic sliding around the ice. Minho shivered, holding his coffee with both hands, willing the warmth to seep into his bones. He pulled his scarf closer to his chin as well.
“Are you cold?” Chris asked, making Minho jump a little. “Sorry.” Chris looked a little concerned, as Minho took another sip of coffee and shrugged.
“I’m always cold.” Minho shifted slightly, feeling the cold bench under his ass making matters worse.
“And you didn’t bring a blanket?” Chris clicked his tongue. “Rookie mistake.” Minho scowled at him.
“I came here right after work! I didn’t have time!” Minho pouted, holding his coffee a little tighter. Chris smiled at him again, it was still a great smile even when it held a look of pity behind it.
“Here, stand up for a second, we can share mine.” Minho stood quickly, ignoring the groans of the parents behind him, watching as Chan shuffled a blanket out from under him to cover Minho’s spot as well. He sat down again on the covered bench, his ass and cold thighs immediately feeling better.
“Thank you.” Chris smiled wider.
“You’re welcome.” Minho felt a hand grab his shoulder, Jisung’s face suddenly very near his ear. His fingers dug into the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer.
“He’s cute, you should go for it.” Jisung’s whispering was harsh and almost too loud for how close to him he was. Minho pulled away from him, peeling his fingers off his shoulder. Jisung looked at him expectantly, gesturing towards Chris. Minho turned his head back towards the ice, watching as the kid Chris had pointed out as his friend’s cousin, number 71, wobble on his skates, managing to pass the puck to number 43, then he passed it to Jisung’s cousin.
“Did you see that?!” Chris whopped, pumping his fist in the air as Jisung’s cousin made a clumsy attempt at shooting it into the net. He almost succeeded, causing a chorus of groans to erupt from the crowd as the dull smack of the puck against the metal frame of the net. Chris turned to look back at Minho. His eyes sparked with a mischievous glint, grinning as he did so.
“You know, Tim Horton’s makes shit coffee.” Minho looked at him, eyebrows pinched together. The buzz of the game was still going on, thuds as sticks hit the ice and the sounds of skates slicing through it.
“Are we really going to get into this now? I brought the coffee for warmth, since I’m always cold.” Minho reminded him, taking a sip of the now lukewarm brew. He grimaced slightly, causing Chris to chuckle.
“See, that’s why I always drink McDonald’s coffee, it’s way better.” Chris laughed again when Minho scowled at him. “What’s that for?”
“I thought it would be in poor taste to bring McDonald’s coffee to a TimBits game.” Chris shrugged, his shoulder pressing against Minho’s.
“Perhaps, but it is better.” Both of their attention was brought back to the ice by the sound of someone slamming into the ice.
“Isn’t that your friend’s cousin?” Minho asked, seeing the number 71 pressed against the glass from the back of the kid’s jersey. The glaring red stop sign printed on his upper back was making the whole thing almost comical.
“Isn’t that your friend’s cousin?” Chris pointed at the other player who had crashed into number 71, clearly Jisung’s cousin if the bright white number 67 was anything to go by. Minho sighed loud enough that Jisung heard it.
“Yeah, it is.”
“You didn’t tell me he was a fighter.” Chris joked, chuckling as they both watched the refs and the coaches pull the players apart, it seemed a pile up had occurred as they all tripped over each other. They sat in silence, thighs slightly touching, coffee slowly losing its warmth in Minho’s palms. The scoreboard climbed higher, plateaued and climbed higher again. Soon it seemed that both teams were neck in neck. The parents behind them groaned in frustration as yet another shot at the net was clumsily blocked by the team’s goalie. Minho kept sneaking looks over at Chris, who seemed to be very absorbed in the game itself. Minho wasn’t sure how he was doing that considering how notoriously boring these games are, or can be. It may just be a Minho thing. Minho turned to Jisung who was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him and rolled his eyes.
“You should go for it.” Jisung whispered and Minho did not get a chance to respond, telling Jisung that he would not be doing so strictly under his often misdirected advice because Chris grabbed his arm.
“He’s going for the tie breaking, your friend’s cousin!” Chris looked at him with his eyes full of excitement. Minho looked at the scoreboard, seeing that there was just 30 seconds left and number 67 was racing towards the net. Minho gripped Chris’ arm, holding his breath. Number 67 took the shot and it flew past the goalie hitting the net. The buzzer went off, cheers erupted around them. Minho jumped to his feet, cheering. He jumped up and down, turning to see Jisung cheering loudly and waving his hands around. Minho turned back towards Chris, seeing that he was also cheering, cupping his hands around his mouth and whooping with the crowd. They both watched as the kids on the ice haphazardly slammed into each other in celebration.
“Maybe you’re a good luck charm.” Chris said, laughing as Minho stepped closer to him. He smirked, preening under the attention.
“Maybe.”
“Will I see you at the next game?” Chris’ eyes looked so full of hope and fresh excitement. Minho felt like he was holding his breath waiting for an answer before he remembered he had to give it.
“I think you will.” Chris smiled a little wider.
“Good.”