Sticks and Skates [Wayhaught]

From the High to the Low to the End of the Show (?)

"...Pressman tries to dangle through and loses the puck—Drillers counter with a 3-on-1... and the Drillers score! Candace Bishop makes it 2-1 with just over ten minutes left in the third..."

Wynonna pushed her way through the doorway of the homestead eagerly after an unbelievably boring day at the rink. With the Devils out of town in Edmonton for games three and four, the arena was practically empty, and Doc's texting ability was severely lacking. She'd found herself hoping for a beer league game or something to liven the experience up, but all she got all day was inventory and ordering, and organizing. It never occurred to her how much work Nicole actually lifted off of her and Waverly until the workload was put back on their shoulders.

Nicole had convinced Waverly to go back to work at the arena, Waverly only agreeing under the condition that either she or Wynonna be home to supervise Nicole at all times. The redhead fought this, of course, and grumbled that she didn't need a babysitter, but caved when Waverly stood up crossing her arms and quite literally putting her foot down. The result of this being that things took twice as long to get done around the rink due to the limited workforce.

The only sliver of interest in Wynonna's day was the official looking envelope that came in the mail, addressed to Nicole. In a very un-Wynonna-like move, she decided that Nicole should open her letter herself, no matter how much she so badly wanted to see what kind of mail she was getting from the league office. Last time it had been an all-star invitation, and Wynonna was curious to see if it was similar excitement.

"Honey, I'm home!" she cheered as she entered the home, finding Nicole on the couch with the Devils game playing. The redhead made no acknowledgement of Wynonna's presence, only continuing to stare blankly ahead at the screen. Wynonna found it weird that Waverly was nowhere in sight, and stepped curiously further into the room. "Haught?"

"...Hastings cross-ice to White, over to Arthur...her shot WIRED by Lauren Miller to give the Drillers a 3-1 lead. Wow! Two goals twenty-eight seconds apart..."

When Nicole still didn't acknowledge her presence, Wynonna tossed the letter at her, hitting her best friend in the face.

"Ow! Jesus Wynonna." Nicole cursed, glaring at Wynonna. "What the fuck?"

Nicole's response had been like a switch had flipped; going from completely on another planet to all there in zero seconds flat. Over the week Nicole was out of the hospital, Wynonna quickly observed that Nicole's spaciness came and went, and like most things, was more noticeable later on in the evening and at night.

"Mail came for you."

"Yeah, no shit." Nicole scoffed. "Must you throw it at me?"

"Yes I must," she smirked mischievously, taking the empty seat on the couch. "Open it. I wanna see your fancy league mail."

"Wait, I wanna wait for Waverly."

"Speaking of," Wynonna probed, not remembering a time (even before the accident) where the two weren't attached at the hip, "where is your better half?"

"I convinced her I could handle myself long enough for her to take a shower."

"Mhm. I definitely got that from the way you had no idea I walked in the door—I could've been a burglar, coming to burgle you."

"Technically you would've been burgling yourself, this is your home."

"Shut up. Open," she said, snatching the letter from Nicole's hands and waving it vigorously in front of her face.

"No, I wanna wait for Waverly," Nicole said, firmly holding her ground.

"Wait for Waverly for what?" The woman in question asked, appearing in the den, still towel-drying her hair.