Its official. I'm addicted. -shrugs- Ah, well there are worse addictions. Anyways, this is just a one-shot. Its kinda an experiment with other characters. Its just a little fun thingy I did. I hope you enjoy~

Matthias = Denmark

Anders = Norway

Fridrik = Iceland

Angelique = Seychelles

Jaroslav = Slovakia (...yes, I stole the name of one of the Slovakian goalies from the Olympics... .)

Warnings: AU (...sorry?), OOCness, language, hockey, fail descriptions of hockey, hints of Matthew having a harem

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew

Disclaimer: I don't own. Its a good thing, too.

"Hey, you're the captain of the hockey team right?"

Matthew reluctantly looked away from the sight he had been watching in amusement. Matthias had tried and failed to steal some of Anders's fries. The Norwegian boy now had the much taller blond in a headlock as Matthias struggled in his grip ("Geez, it was just one fry! OW MY NECK DOESN'T TWIST THAT WAY.")

"Yeah." He replied softly, a polite smile on his face, as he looked up at the teen that addressed him. A blond, about his height but a little more muscular, grinned brightly.

"Great!" He announced, plopping down in the empty seat next to Matthew.

The rest of the group at the table grew silent, staring at the newcomer who just casually entered their midst and was now being buddy-buddy with their captain.

It wasn't that the hockey team was protective of their younger captain…

It was just that they were incredibly protective of their younger captain. To like, an insane degree.

For example, after another upperclassmen attempted to molest Matthew at the party he was hosting over the weekend, Matthias and Berwald (in a stunning display of teamwork) tied the French student upside down from the tree in the front yard before they along with Anders and Fridrik returned to the house and utterly trashed it.

When Arthur got drunk and cheated on Matthew (who he was dating at the time) with the hot Australian exchange student. Matthew was utterly heartbroken and absolutely listless to the point where even playing hockey couldn't lift him out of his slump. The four Scandiavians….well…

All four were suspended for a week.

Arthur still flinches whenever he sees the group.

No one really talks about it.

Of course, Francis and Arthur were close to Matthew. The four boys were gentle with them. …Well, gentle compared to what happened to those who weren't close to the slender blond.

The Nordics (as Matthias drunkenly labeled them) protected their own.

Even Gilbert (somewhat out of place on the team because hockey wasn't exactly his sport but his brother demanded that he find some outlet for his energy that wasn't sex or drinking or any combination of the two) was fond of Matthew (because the boy once beat him up for badmouthing hockey and then cooked him pancakes as an apology) and would bend over backwards and do tricks if it so pleased the blond.

And Ivan… well, Ivan just liked smashing Matthew into the boards. But he respected the diminutive (compared to him) blond that could lead the team with an iron fist but, instead, deftly wielded a displeased frown and slow headshake combined with a silent exit that sent the entire, rowdy crew scrabbling to their knees and begging for forgiveness (except Ivan, of course.)

(Of course, its not like he liked Matthew. But the boy was much more bearable when he wasn't "disappointed".)

And Matthew, their sweet, precious, kind and sometimes violent and sadistic and driven Captain (as he was dubbed by everyone on the team because everyone kinda had a ginormous man-crush on the Canadian), reluctantly put up with it.

He was actually a bit flattered.

But he still made them practice until they couldn't hold their hockey sticks or skate straight.

He had a bit of a reputation to maintain, after all.

Anyways, the new blond seemed unaware of the wary glances the team was throwing him and didn't seem to notice the drop in temperature when he draped his arm around Matthew's shoulder. "The name's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones." He grinned widely, white teeth blinding under the florescent lighting of the cafeteria. "Goalie extraordinaire."

Matthew, who was rather caught off guard but mildly impressed by Alfred's forwardness, said, polite as ever, "How long have you played?"

"Since junior high. And I played in high school before transferring here." His blue eyes twinkled brightly. "So am I in?"

Gilbert snorted, shaking his head. The rest of the team looked equally amused. Matthew threw them a silencing look and turned back to the expectant blond. "Not quite. Why don't you come to practice this afternoon and show us what you've got. We need a goalie." Matthew said reassuringly.

"Sweet." Alfred grinned, "Oh, hey. You gonna eat that?" He pointed at the uneaten hamburger and, before Matthew could answer, swiped it from his tray and took a huge bite out of it, chewing messily. Swallowing loudly and adding a burp for good measure, Alfred stood up and saluted at the flabbergasted blond. "Thanks, dude!"

And then he walked off.

The team stared at his retreating back and then slowly at their Captain who was just staring at the new student, violet eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

Matthias shot to his feet. "I'll get you a new one Captain!" He shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted back to the lunch line, shoving any who happened to get into his way.

"Here." Berwald said, moving his uneaten hamburger to Matthew's tray. "I didn' d' anythin' t' it."

"How rude." Tino murmured, looked rather affronted and patting Matthew on the pack.

"I'll kick his fucking ass!" Gilbert snarled, slamming his fist down onto the table.

Even Anders and Fridrik looked annoyed. The former muttered something about trolls and the latter held out his bag of liquorice candies to the shocked blond.

Matthew just sat there, wondering just who the fuck this Alfred F. Jones thought he was.

"He's actually not bad." Matthias admitted, grudgingly as he watched Alfred block each and every shot Matthew sent his way. It was as though the teen was an immovable force in that net, easily brushing away and outright stopping every shot, no matter how fast and how much force Matthew used.

It was clear Matthew had wanted to really test the new player and make him cry.

He was pretty bitter about that hamburger.

The other Nordics nodded in agreement.

"Jaroslav was better." Ivan said, tight smile on his face. "Shame he left."

The Russian made it clear he wasn't fond of the American when he sent a puck careening right to his face.

Unfortunately, Alfred blocked it.

"Captain looks like he's gonna bust a vein." Matthias said, watching with interest as said captain skated by. Matthew absolutely murderous. His normally gentle violet eyes were dark and sharper than steel. His face was set in a grim line and he was muttering in rapid French under his breath.

Berwald merely nodded, face stern as ever but his pale blue eyes followed their shorter captain and widened as the other let out a particularly loud (and probably vulgar) snarl.

"Then you'd better not—you're an idiot Matthias." Anders said stoically, watching as the tall Dane skated over to their captain and draped a friendly arm around the other teen's bony shoulders.

Fridrik just surreptitiously slipped another piece of liquorice into his mouth, wondering if Matthew would be able to beat the Dane unconscious with his stick or would it break with one strike because of the other's hard head.

"Ah, Captain." Matthias said cheerfully, not noticing the way Matthew stiffed under his arm and glared at him darkly. He knew Matthias was touchy-feeling, but he wasn't in the mood right now. "Don't feel bad. It was probably beginner's luck."

Matthew said nothing, quietly calculating just how valuable the wild-haired blond would be during the next game.

"Sure he's got some mad goalie skills, but he can't stop all your shots forever."

No, he and Berwald (despite their strange relationship of Berwald openly disliking Matthias and Matthias teasing the tall Swede) played well together. If, for some reason, Matthias was unable to play the next game (what with the head injury Matthew wanted to inflict) then the entire dynamic of the defensive line would be shaken.

"Besides, we all know you're way better than that loud-mouth." Matthias finished.

"…Thanks, Matthias." Matthew said blandly, deciding against giving the other teen a concussion.

"Anytime Captain!" the taller man said cheerfully, pulling an unresisting (but not entirely pleased) Matthew into a tight hug. Matthew said nothing as the Dane crushed his face into his broad chest, arms hanging limply at his sides.

"Get a room!" Gilbert shouted, skating by, reddish eyes gleaming in mirth.

Matthew flipped him off.

Matthias just squeezed the other blond closer.

"I'm in now, right?" A confident voice cut in, brutally interrupting the sweet moment. Alfred had pushed his helmet up and was looking excitedly at Matthew (who didn't look nearly as excited). "I blocked every single shot. I was totally amazing, yeah?"

Matthew looked like he was being forced to swallow something bitter and slimy. "Yeah." He bit out. "You're in."

Alfred cheered, throwing up his hands and trying to jump in joy.

He failed and ended up falling flat on his ass.

Matthias laughed.

Matthew skated away, not looking back as Alfred tried to climb back to his feet.

Alfred's arrival was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because, finally, they had a permanent goalie that played well.

A curse, though, because Alfred had an entourage.

An entourage of screaming fangirls who interrupted practices by trying to get the blond's attention. They cooed and squealed over his movie star good looks, his perfectly brushed golden locks and laughing blue eyes and dreamy smile. They vied for a chance to date him and flocked to practices and games holding signs with his name in giant hearts.

It was frustrating and annoying. Before Alfred, no one had really taken much of an interest in the hockey team. They did well, everyone knew, but no one really went to the games. Especially not girls.

Now girls went to the games and so did their boyfriends (to throw dirty looks at Alfred).

"I'm sorry." Alfred had said sheepishly when Matthew brought it up in the locker room. "I can't help it that they all want a piece of me." He winked at Matthew. "Its not my fault I'm so handsome."

Matthew looked unimpressed. Wordlessly, he pulled off his sweaty practice jersey and headed off to the showers with a towel.

Alfred's face fell a little and he watched, broad shoulders slightly slumped.

Matthias was the only one to notice.

"I think Alfred is gay for Captain." He said, reeling a bit from the realization.

Anders, who had answered his phone without checking caller ID, rolled his eyes. "Are you drunk? Captain will kill you if you show up hungover. And he'll hunt you down if you skip."

"I'm not drunk, Anders!" the Dane whined, stomping his foot and pouting.

The Norwegian hung up.

"You okay, Captain?" Gilbert asked, crimson eyes concerned as Matthew viciously stabbed the mystery meat while glaring across the lunchroom. The silver-haired teen flinched when the cheap, plastic utensil snapped in the blond's hand.

"I'm. Fine." Matthew grumbled, violet eyes still locked on the scene.

Glancing over, Gilbert saw Angelique and Alfred laughing together. The girl flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and placed a delicate hand on Alfred's bicep. The bespectacled American seemed to not notice and was, instead, regaling her with some story with a bright grin.

"You'r too good f'r h'r." Berwald said with a serious nod. Tino nodded quickly and pulled the remains of the fork away from Matthew, just in case the other attempted to commit homicide with them.

"She's a slut." Fridrik said quietly.

"And you still have us!" Matthias said loudly, grinning almost manically. "Bros before hoes."

Matthew sniffled, lower lip trembling, violet eyes slightly damp. He looked down, his wavy pale blond hair falling in front of his face.

Every single person at the table immediately whipped out a tissue and held it out to the younger blond.

"Does Matthew hate me?" Alfred asked suddenly.

The team was waiting out on the ice, skating around idly waiting for their Captain to return from meeting their mysterious and always missing coach.

At Alfred's question, everyone froze and stared incredulously at the American.

"Are you…just now realizing this?" Gilbert asked, slowly.

"You are far stupid than I could have ever imagined." Ivan said, earning a glare from Alfred.

"But why?" Alfred pouted, smacking the ice with his stick in frustration. "I even brought him cupcakes." He puffed out his cheeks. "I made them myself."

"He ate one and was out sick for at least two days." Tino reminded the blond with icy politeness. Alfred looks away, embarrassed.

"You broke one of his favorite hockey sticks. Tried to screw around on the ice and fell on top of him. You dissed Sidney Crosby." Matthias listed off each point as he skated around the American. "Oh and you asked if he's ever lived in an igloo."

"He's Canadian!"

"And you're a fool."

"Shut up Commie!"

"Why don't you make me, comrade?" Ivan's eyes seemed to light up with a slightly insane glint and his smile seemed more annoyed than anything.

Berwald skated between the two, an annoyed and scary glare on his face. Alfred eeped and skated over to the goal. Ivan just smiled merrily, turning away and mumbling, "Kol kol kol" under his breath.

"Oh and you stole his girl." Matthias added.

Berwald smacked him upside the head with his hockey stick.

The next day at practice Alfred flashes a winning smile at the girls and tells them that he can't play with so many beautiful woman distracting him and, if they wouldn't mind, could they stop showing up at team practices?

The girls chirp, "Of course Alfred!" and then nearly trip over each other trying to leave the building first to impress the blond goalie.

Alfred hesitantly glances over at Matthew.

Matthew sighs and gives the blond a small smile.

Alfred's grin is brighter than the stadium's lights.

"Captain, I think our goalie is in love with you." Matthias says seriously after practice.

Alfred had just slapped Matthew on the ass as he passed the slender blond on his way to the locker room.

"Not this again." Anders rolls his eyes.

"Matthias," Matthew begins patiently, pulling off his helmet and shaking his wavy hair loose, "you slap everyone on the ass. Does that mean you love everyone?"

"Not just that!" The Dane sulks. "He's always staring at you. He watches you when you change. He always—"

"You've been hanging around Elisabeth too much." Matthew says simply, voice leaving no room for argument.

"I think I'm in love with Matthew." Alfred shouts, bursting into the locker room with wild eyes.

"Hah! I was right!" Matthias crows, jumping to his feet.

The rest of the Nordics roll their eyes.

"He's too good for you." Gilbert says, brushing past the blond.

Ivan just chuckles and elbows Alfred hard in the gut as he moves past the blond.

"So I came up with this new formation." Matthew says, rapidly entering the combination to his locker. "I think we should try it out during practice."

Berwald, his alternate captain, nods in agreement.

Matthew smiles and pulls open his locker.

A giant white polar bear tumbles out and hits Matthew in the face.

There's a note messily tied to its paw and Matthew tears it off, absentmindedly adjusting his glasses where the bear had knocked them askew.

To remind you of the polar bear you once rode to school.

Matthew just stares at the note before crumbling it up and throwing it back into his locker.

But he takes the bear to practice, sets it on the bench and tells the team, "This is Kumajirou. He is our mascot."

His eyes dare anyone to question his announcement and even Ivan is too surprised to comment.

Alfred wears a bright and slightly dopey smile for the rest of practice.

The next day, when the team marches into the locker room, tired and sweaty after a grueling practice, they stop dead just after entering.

The room is filled, from floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall, with every shade and hue of rose imaginable. The blossoms give off a sweetly fragrant scent, cloying and clogging the air with the combined force of their perfume.

The entire team glares at Alfred but the blond quickly holds up his pads and says, "It wasn't me! Who gives flowers to a guy anyways? That's really gay."

The next day, Francis finds himself hanging upside down from the tree again.

This time, Arthur is sober and takes hundreds of pictures before cutting down the unfortunate Frenchman.

"I don't like the thought of Captain dating Alfred." Gilbert grumbles, taking a long sip from his Gatorade. "He's weird."

"You're one to talk." Fridrik sneers.

"At least he's better than Francis. Or Arthur." Tino muses, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Berwald nods in agreement.

"I don't like the thought of Captain dating anyone." Matthias snaps.

"That's because you love him." Anders says, light blue eyes flat.

"Who doesn't love Captain?" Matthias argues defensively.

Matthew sighs long-sufferingly and wonders when his team will realize that he's sitting right there.

"Hey! Mattie!" Alfred shouts, waving his arms wildly as Matthew dashes in and neatly knocks the puck away from Ivan. "There's this awesome movie out this weekend with tons of zombies and explosions and shit! We should go watch it!"

The black disk shoots past his shoulder and bounces against the net.

"You should be more concerned with watching the puck." Matthew scolds, turning sharply on his skates and gliding gracefully away.

Alfred almost pouts but contents himself with staring at Matthew's incredibly firm ass as the blond skates effortlessly over to break up a fight between Berwald and Matthias.

They win their first few games with more than five goals with Alfred completely shutting out the opposing teams.

Matthew actually hugs Alfred out of joy.

But when Alfred tries to sneak in a quick grope, the American finds his self flipped over and lying flat down on the ice as Gilbert points and laughs.

"Prob'ly should'v expect'd th't." Berwald chides, pulling up the goalie roughly.

For the entire season, Alfred tries to get Matthew to agree to one date.

Matthew skillfully evades the question each time, successfully distracting the other teenager and keeping the peace.

But, it is a week before the championship game that Alfred snaps.

"Give me a straight answer, damn it!" Alfred growls, shoving Matthew against the lockers and pinning the shorter blond there.

"Alfred." Matthew says, warningly. His violet eyes are stern and he's in full "Don't fuck with me or I will fuck your shit up 'cause I'm the motherfuckin' captain, damn it" mode.

"No!" The blue-eyed blond shakes his head stubbornly. "I want an answer now."

The rest of the team is watching, tense and wondering if they should intervene.

But it is Matthias, cheerful eyes now solemn, who ushers them out of the locker room.

They go and practice for another ten minutes.

They hear the door of the locker room slam open and Alfred storms away, a bruise beginning to form on his jaw, without glancing at any of them.

Tino volunteers to go check on Matthew.

He finds the blond sitting on the ground, leaning back against the lockers. When Tino walks in, he looks up with reddish eyes and says, in a soft, teary voice, "I ruined everything."

Tino gathers his captain into his arms, reassuringly running his fingers through wavy blond locks. "I'm sure you didn't." He murmurs. Matthew clutches his jersey, not caring that Tino reeks and his clothing is damp with sweat.

Its unnerving to see his normally strong captain so sad and hurt and guilty. With how focused and strict the slender blond was, it was easy to forget how young he looked and was. With how dedicated and charismatic he was on the ice, it was easy to forget that he was mild-mannered and quiet outside the rink. It was easy to forget that he was easily forgotten and not used to attention and hesitant of amorous gestures.

"I just didn't want to be hurt again." He whispered.

"I know." Tino says softly.

"Come back to the team." Gilbert says without any preamble, sliding into the empty seat next to Alfred. When the blond ignores him, the silver-haired teen grabs the book the other is reading and throws it somewhere, earning a glare from the librarian. "Be at practice today. Or else."

Alfred snorts and glares at his ex-teammate. "I thought you'd be happy. You hate me."

"Yeah, I do." Gilbert snaps back, sneering. "Seriously, I hate your fucking guts and nothing would make me happier than to see that puck break your stupid fucking face." Then his face softens slightly and he shrugs, "But Captain hasn't been the same since you left. He misses you."

Alfred laughed humorlessly. "He hates me."

"You're really dense aren't you." Gilbert rolls his eyes. "If he hated you, you'd have more than just that bruise to show for it." He gestures towards the ugly purpling splotch marring the other's tanned face.

Alfred looks unconvinced.

"Look," Gilbert exhales loudly, running his fingers through his short hair, "Captain had a really bad relationship with a guy a few months ago. Bastard cheated on him, broke Mattie's heart." He stands up and adds coldly, "For Matthew's sake, come back to the team. Or else you're gonna find yourself in a world of pain." He throws over his shoulder, "We protect our own."

Alfred shows up at practice.

Matthew verbally tears into him, working him harder than anyone else and forces him to stay later than everyone else just to make up for the practices he skipped.

Alfred fully regrets his decision to come back.

Then Matthew shyly comes up behind him in the locker room and wraps his arms around his midsection.

"I'm glad you came back." He murmurs against Alfred's back. With one final squeeze, the blond lets go.

Suddenly, Alfred is incredibly happy he came back.

They lose the championship game.

Matthew, slightly subdued, tells the team that he's pleased with how they played and how he's honored to have led such a fine team.

But the locker room is painfully silent.

Berwald and Matthias and Ivan think they could've played defense better.

Fridrik is annoyed that a concussion pulled him out of the game early.

Anders hands the pale-haired boy an icepack and thinks they played well, but not well enough.

Gilbert thinks back on all the shots he could've made.

Tino says nothing, but the way he's clenching and unclenching his hands into fists is proof of his frustration.

Alfred is probably the worst off (behind Matthew who blames himself completely) because he knows he allowed in goals he could've easily stopped. He wishes he played better because he likes to win and he knows Matthew likes to win.

He wishes he played better so Matthew would smile for real, not that fake little grin he's glued on to reassure his team.

After the rest of the team filters out, Alfred grabs Matthew's hand, entwining his fingers with Matthew's. "Next year." He swears, azure eyes determined.

"Definitely." Matthew responds, violet eyes mirroring the glint in blue orbs. Then, he pauses and appraises Alfred silently, before leaning forward and pressing his lips chastely against the American's. "It's a date."

"Its about damn time." Matthias says, slinging an arm around Berwald's broad shoulders.

Berward grunts in agreement, shrugging off the other teen's arm.

Their captain is leaning against his locker, arms looped around Alfred's neck as the other leans down to sneak a kiss. Matthew tangles his fingers in dark golden hair and tugs Alfred closer.

"…You think Captain tops?"

No, no he doesn't Mattias. But only because he's too big down there and Alfred is convinced it can't fit. Anyways, there's this enormous thing. I just really wanted overprotective!hockey team and Captain!Matthew and NewGuy!Alfred. And...just something nice and sweet with hockey. STANLEY CUP ADHFDKDSGHDSKGASDJK. -dies- The Blackhawks have beaten the Flyers twice and even though I really don't know what that means, I do know Toews is kinda sexy... hell, hockey is kinda sexy... -shakes head- anways, hope you all enjoyed it! Drop a review and let me know how much exactly I failed (epically or just a bit?).