One More Night

The Good Ol' Hockey Game

The Good Ol' Hockey Game- Stompin' Tom Connors

"Toni?!"
"Gil?"
"You two know each ozher?"
It was a prominent moment of confusion when the three men met up in the foyer of Francis's home.
"We're neighbours. I keep an eye on Matthew when Gil's out." Antonio explained.
"How do jou know Francis?"
"We met online." The Frenchman explained.
"This is a crazy coincidence." Antonio exclaimed.
"Now zhat I zhink about it...ve vould make an awesome team."
"Team for what?" Francis placed his hand on his hip.
"I dunno...crime fighting?"
"Haha. We should totally do that."
"I'm not vearing any tights."
"Toni is. 'is ass would look amazing in zhem." Francis chuckled.
"Guys, I'm here." Alfred shouted as he slid down the stair railing.
"ALFRED I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO ZHAT!"
"Umad?"
"Extremely. Do you 'ave any idea 'ow many times Bella 'as 'ad to polish zhe railings?"
"Pfft. A lot."
Francis sighed. "Alright. Allons-y."
The exited the house, climbing into a black limo.
"Let's party!" Alfred cheered.

(•••)

Matthew sighed and rolled over in bed for the fifth time since Francis left him on his own.
He was starting to get tired of all this moping.
What was it Francis had said?
He could hang out Francis's fiancé and his friends?
Would they even want him around? He was just a depressed buzzkill and would probably ruin their night.
Matthew rolled out of bed and into the floor. Maybe he could just melt into it and never have to worry about anything ever again.
He stared at the ceiling, trying to find the will to do something. Anything.
He turned his head toward the open door, eyes widening when he saw what was there.
A little boy, about nine years old, blonde with bushy eyebrows and bright blue eyes.
"Um...hey..." Matthew managed a smile.
"Why are you on the floor?" The boy nervously stepped into the room, sitting down at Matthew's side.
"Uh, because it's comfy down here."
"Are you related to Papa Francis?"
"Yeah. I'm his cousin."
Francis has a kid?
"I'm Peter."
"Matthew." The Canadian replied. "Is Francis your dad?"
"Not my real one. My dad's the one he's marrying."
Matthew nodded.
"D'ya wanna play action figures with me? None of the other adults are cool enough."
"There aren't any other kids here?"
"Naw. Dad's friend Lukas has this little brother that I like to hang out with but he decided to stay home."
"Aw. That's not good. I'll play action figures with you."
"Really?!"
"Yeah, sure." Matthew and Ivan had wanted kids, but the Russian had passed before they could apply for adoption.
If they had ended up as parents, Matthew knew that a kid like Peter would have been exactly what they would have wanted.
The Brit stood and held out his hand. Matthew took it and stood. He was lead out of his room and down the hallway to another filled with toys and books and a giant bed shaped like a race car.
"My action figures are over here!" He ran over to the far wall. There sat a shelf covered in plastic superheroes and action stars.
He picked up one that looked like John Cena and pressed a button on the back. The sound of trumpets squealed through its tiny speaker.
"What's your dad like, Peter?" Matthew sat down on the floor and was handed a blocky transformer.
"He's a grumpy old man and he doesn't let me do anything fun."
"He lets you hang out with me doesn't he?"
"I wasn't supposed to. Pops told me not to bother you."
Matthew smiled and pulled Peter in for a hug. The boy was surprised but hugged back.
"I'm glad you bothered me." He whispered to him.

I will never write Peter without a race car bed. I could be writing an au where he's a 75 year old man and still include the race car bed. It could be a zombie apocalypse au where the characters all live in a forest and he'd still have the race car bed. I could be writing a pirate au that takes place in the late eighteenth century and he'd still have the fucking race car bed.