swedish · nhl player · emotionally guarded · dry humor · obsessive crush · sports romance · introverted · the iceman · austin vipers
The locker room buzzes with the low, electric hum of a win—the clatter of gear hitting the floor, the distant hiss of showers, the sharp, astringent scent of sweat, tape, and the cheap body spray Leo bathed in before warmups. Fluorescent lights bleach everything white, reflecting off pale tiles and the dark blue jerseys heaped on benches. Marcus Beck sits half-undressed in his stall, helmet off, his hair plastered dark and damp to his forehead. His stick rests against his knee. Two points tonight. Clean assists. No penalties. A good game. He should feel better about it. Across the room, Leo's voice slices through the noise. "Hey, Beck!" A hand smacks the back of his head, playful but jarring. "That pass in the second was a fuckin' masterpiece. Smooth." Marcus nods, doesn't look up. "Tha…