Chapter Text
It was all so sudden, the lights of camera’s flashing in the stands, the impact on his fist, even the small sight of blood staining the ice underneath him. It was as if he saw the whole scene in slow motion, as if it was punishment for letting his temper go. It was as if he was watching his entire career seconds before tumbling down a mountain that he’d never have enough oxygen to re-climb.
It was brutal, the screams, the gasps, the sound surrounding his entire being as he punched his coach’s face out of sheer annoyance and anger. Proving his fathers point further, that thought was somewhere deep in the back of his mind where he had willed it to stay for all these years.
If he had been in the right state of mind, he’d probably find his coach’s face of disbelief humorous, maybe even make a jab at the guy if he wasn’t the one who had punched him on live television during one of the biggest games of his entire career. Maybe then it’d be funny, but it wasn’t.
It wasn’t funny at all when his entire career was handed to him in a piece of paper that stated he was kicked. His contract terminated completely, not even getting this year's salary either.
He fucked up royally.
He knew that even clearer when his father had called him and screamed at him, insulting him in as many ways he could even think of. Calling him every soiled name in the books, in English and Scottish with an accent that John nearly shared identically with him. The thought made him feel queasy, every moment still seeming to move as slow as time for him.
“Are ye even fucking listening to me John!” His father's screams weren’t registered in his head, so he decided to just hang up and turn his phone on silent. He needed a breather from the world, he hated seeing the replays of his mistake, seeing whether the internet was happy or hurt by the near end of his career that had no saving to it.
He needed to get out of bed, but his limbs felt too heavy.
He needed to keep shape if he ever wanted another chance of playing, but he had been drinking too much to even move more than a few feet.
He had fucked up, and he saw no way of him ever going to be able to fix it even in the slightest.
His phone was vibrating, it annoyed him. He flailed around in his bed that had become a nest of his, going to just turn the damn thing off until he saw an unknown number light up his screen in the dark of his room. This, in the largest stream of things was odd, not many had his personal number except for people who had access to his resume that his old manager still had.
He answered it without thinking, like many things he’s done in the past few months.
“Hello?” He said, his voice felt like gravel when he spoke.
“John MacTavish, yes?” The voice said, sounded like a British male with a way too deep voice. Which weirdly sounded as if the man had smoked pounds in the years of his life.
“Depen’s who’s asking.” John decided to reply with.
“John Price, coach of the Manchester Lightning Bolts to be exact.” The man replied, which had caught John’s attention right to the tee.
“John Price? How’d ye get my digits?”
“Bought them off your manager, you certainly play for a pretty penny.” The man had said, a deep chuckle could be heard in the speaker of John’s phone.
“Its’ my personal number, that’s why.” John replied, his throat dry.
“Figured so, well talking over the phone isn’t really my thing John. How about you come down to our stadium and have a chat with me in person, in my office.”
That whole statement wasn’t a question with a choice, it was John Price telling John to come down whether he wanted to or not.
“Aye, what time John?” He said reaching over his mess of a nightstand to grab a piece of paper and a pen that was nearly out of ink.
“Please, call me Price. We both share a name, let’s not make it awkward.” Price replied with, a smile could be heard from just his voice.
“Alroght, Price, what time?” John repeated, correcting himself.
“Before practice, I’ll have our finance manager show you around before everyone shows up.”
“Aye, sounds good.” John said, and once the call had ended he got that random burst of energy back in his system.
Deciding to use it to clean his flat and take a shower in the meantime as he cooked himself some actual food instead of some chinese takeout he kept ordering throughout the week. It was nice for him to finally get back in the swing of things, having a new sense of hope for himself to not be fully wasted away.
Eventually, that energy was subdued by nervousness. That feeling of being queasy had come back as he walked in the chilly morning air towards the stadium. Which was fairly larger than the one he played in for the other team.
“Ah! You must be John right?” A woman’s voice called out. She sounded too happy and cheery for the early hours in John’s opinion.
“Aye, and ye are?”
“Farah, the Lightning Bolts’ finance manager. Pleasure to meet you John.” She said with a wide, toothy smile. John gave her one back as he always did when meeting someone, shaking her hand happily.
“Follow me, I’ll show you a small bit of the place. Figured you’d like the chance to roam around alone though.” She said, clearly outspoken and confident in herself to be so extroverted. It was something John admired since he was just like that, always making friends easily.
The small tour went by quickly, he was shown where the locker rooms were, the bathrooms, and even the small snack room for the players. Farah explained about how the food rule stands in the snack room, as well as going into detail about how important it is to write a name on his own food.
Farah then apologized for having to run so early, but gave him a small guest pass badge to let him into all the rooms.
John hummed to himself as he had found Price’s office soon after, knocking before walking in with a smile.
“John, it’s good to see you.” Price said as he stood up, giving John a firm handshake as a welcoming. Giving John more respect than he’s gotten from the league yet in just one minute of meeting him.
“Aye, you too sir.” John said, forcing his voice not to show his accent so thickly as a way to try and be more professional.
“Now, let’s get to the point of this meeting, shall we?” Price said with a smile, showing the crinkles in his outer corners of his eyes.
John nodded, deciding that was a good enough response as he followed in suit by sitting down in the spare office chair. He was handed a few papers, reading them over quickly as Price had begun speaking.
“I’ve seen you out on the ice before kid, and I must say it is a remarkable sight to see.” Price started, the pride in John’s heart had begun to thaw through once again.
“But it was terrible news to hear that you were kicked, I found it as… a waste of talent and skill.” Price added, emphasizing his words with his hands. John just nodded along with what Price was saying to him.
“Now, I don’t make wasteful mistakes like that, and I highly pride myself in that aspect. So if I said I was willing to sign a contract with you, would you make me rethink this statement?” Price said with a serious tone, but a smile on his face that just felt welcoming towards John.
John shook his head slightly, exhaling a breath with a wide smile.
“No sir, I would do everything in my power not to make you rethink it.” John said, really beginning to force his accent into an English one.
“Alright then, good thing I had a feeling you’d say that. Just sign where you need to.” Price said as he pointed to the papers in John’s hands.
It would be a lie to say that John was having a hard time sitting still, his excitement bubbling underneath his skin as he signed those papers.
“Welcome to the team, John.” Price said with another handshake and a pat to the shoulder as they stood back up.
“Aye, thank you again. I’m grateful for this chance to redeem myself.” John said proudly, before Price stopped him from walking towards the door.
“Go ahead and roam around, I’ll have everything necessary ready in about a day.” Price said happily.
“Aye.” John said with a grin before Price cleared his throat.
“One more thing, you don’t have to force your accent, John. Just be yourself and you’ll fit in quickly.” Price said before he let John go.
After that whole interview type conversation, he felt ecstatic that he was officially signed to one of the best teams even after he was kicked from his last. He decided to roam around, mapping out the place for the next year or so on his contract.
Quickly enough, he found himself in the stands of the rink watching in awe as one of the teammates was running through early drills.
“Oh John! I heard about the good news, congrats!” Farah said beside him, watching the man playing as well.
“Ah thanks, aren’t practice drills starting in an hour?” John asked as he nodded towards the rink.
“Yeah, that’s Ghost for you. Get’s here before anyone, he is the team captain after all.” She said with a shrug, looking down at a small clipboard.
“Aye, so is that really his real name?” John said with a chuckle, watching closely at the sheer speed the player was going.
“Oh no, that’s Simon Riley. Ghost is just the nickname given to him.” She clarified with a laugh.
“Ah, Riley eh? Big lad.” John said aloud, the sound of the stick hitting the puck was crashing through his head. He could hear the sheer force of that hit from the nosebleeds.
“I’ll see you later John, I recommend getting on the big guys’ good side!” Farah said before she went off to who knows where. John decided she must be a busy woman to be so active around the stadium.
John was happy, just sitting in the stands watching as Ghost hit the pucks into the goal. He wondered if the man would have better practice if he went against someone.
“Ye need a partner?” John yelled out as he was tying up the laces to some spare skates he found.
The man looked at John in the stands, moving his mask up to show his face.
John would be considered a sinner if he said that the man wasn’t fucking breathtaking.
“Who’re you?” Simon called out with an un-amused frown, raising a blonde eyebrow at John who was now running towards the rink in skates.
“John MacTavish, played against ye once!” He said with a laugh, climbing over the smaller wall of the rink, just to end up on his ass as he laughed with a wide smile.
“The one who got kicked from his team?” Simon said, clearly showing that he was not a friendly or social person.
“Aye, that’d be me.” John said as he stood up and whipped off the shredded ice off his pants.
“Why are you here?”
“Yikes, no need tae be so pissy, Ghostie.” John said with a smile as he slid towards Simon on the ice.
“Just figured ye needed a partner tae practice with, always better tha’ way,” He hummed as he looked at the tall man before him.
“Why are you here?” Simon said again, this time slowing his words in a mocking way.
“Got signed tae yer team, happy to meet ye.” John said as he held out his hand, keeping his grin present on his face.
“The fuck you mean, got signed?” Simon accused him, his tone deep as ever as he glared daggers into John’s frame.
“Ah just signed the contract in Price’s office?” John said as he furrowed his eyebrows slightly, confused by the rough tone in the other man's tone.
“Hm.” Simon said as he slid away from John, towards the center of the rink.
John stared at him for a moment before Simon spoke again.
“Well aren't you going to defend?” He said as he pointed towards the goal.
John smiled widely as he slid in front of Simon, having a stick given to him. The small practice went by well, it had ended with the two men laughing and making fun of each other throughout the entire walk to the locker rooms.
John and Simon weirdly clicked easily and well, which was a surprise to Simon completely.
“Hey Ghost, hear about the new guy?” Kyle had called out, his face dropped a bit as he saw John walking with Simon.
“Aye, nice tae meet ye.” John said with a smile, quickly patting Kyle’s back with a greeting before he walked off. John had to leave early to meet up with his sister for lunch like he had promised.
He had high hopes now, somehow, life had given him another chance to redeem himself from his mistake.
He was going to do everything in his will not to fuck it up this time.
Everything.