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Paul wakes up one morning with his head pounding and skin buzzing, body slick with sweat. There’s an uncomfortable feeling between his thighs, and the bed sheets feel too rough, irritating his overheated skin. He lies there in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, and tries to ignore the repetitive twinge in his groin and the insistent itching under his skin. Why today, he thinks.
He gets up and goes to shower eventually, closing his eyes and trying to cool down under the cold spray. He resists the urge to reach down and relieve himself; if he indulges himself now, his head will only hurt more and fire will spread across his skin like a flood. He won’t be able to stop.
He takes medication for his headache after he showers, and sits down in his kitchen, sipping slowly at his coffee and staring at the text Teemu had sent him the week before. Coming back to Cali next week, it says, you better be free.
Paul sighs and wraps his hand around his left wrist, encircling the words that lie there. It provides a sense of satisfaction, of calm and quiet but it only lasts for so long before the insistent buzzing starts up once again. He sighs again, tired and worn out despite having just woken up, and goes to grab his surfboard and wetsuit. He looks at the time. He has to get back before Teemu gets here.
He circles his fingers around his wrist one more time, before finally letting go.
Surfing helps.
The feel of the warm sand between his toes and the cool salty water gliding across his skin does wonders to quench the thirsty curling in his gut. Surfing’s one of the only things that helps these days. It brings a sense of peace and calm, an icy cold he hasn’t been able to get since hockey. Sometimes, if he concentrates hard enough, the sound of the waves, crashing and lapping at the shore sounds like the sharp glide of skates across the ice, determined and smooth.
It’s particularly cold that morning, bordering on uncomfortable, the summer air whistling in the wind. When droplets of rain begin to hit the water and lightly kiss his cheeks, sliding down the bridge of his nose, Paul decides it’s about time he heads back. He feels better now, skin cool and his head’s not pounding as aggressively as before. But he knows it won’t last. Teemu will be here soon.
~~~~
Paul smells him before he sees him, that tight feeling unfurling slowly in his gut. It’s easy to get lost in Teemu’s scent. Teemu smells soft and pliant, sickly sweet, like cotton candy, delicious and teeth aching. He smells like cool lemonade and the calming scent of the ocean breeze. It’s the least offensive and intimidating scent Paul has ever smelt on an alpha.
It’s the same scent from when Paul first met him, just riper and sweeter with age. He has to sit in his car for a moment when he gets to the driveway of his house, head against the steering wheel and breathing deeply. Teemu’s scent is thick and it makes Paul’s mind sluggish, drenched in the sweet smell in the midst of his heat. Of course his heat comes on the day Teemu visits. Paul’s life is horrible.
He makes it out of the car eventually and Teemu’s scent in his house is intoxicating. He finds Teemu in his bedroom, sleeping on Paul’s bed on his stomach, hair messy, wearing a pair of Paul’s shorts and anold Anaheim t-shirt, the ‘Kariya’ stretched wide across his shoulders. The sight of him in Paul’s clothes and Paul’s bed makes Paul ache deeply for things he wants and can never have. There’s nothing more he wants right now, than to feel Teemu’s hands on his skin, soft and worn with age and hockey sticks.
“Paul?”
Paul startles from where he’s standing by the doorway. Teemu’s looking at him with squinted eyes, bleary and tired from his flight and Paul shivers, skin itching.
“Paulie,” Teemu whines, “come sleep.”
Paul wants to say no, he already slept enough and the heat is bubbling under his skin. All he wants, , is to rub himself against Teemu’s side, and get his smell on his skin, give in to the heat and what it wants.
“I know, Paul,” Teemu says softly, and shuffles over. “But come here.”
And Paul’s never been able to deny Teemu anything so he shamelessly changes into a pair of shorts, feeling Teemu’s eyes on him. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, he’s too hot, and he crawls into bed beside Teemu, lying on his side so they’re facing each other.
They’re only inches apart, and it sends a fission of heat through his gut. Paul’s old now, and he’s learned self-control, but today is different. This is the first heat Teemu’s been around for in years and Paul—
“It’s bad today, huh?” Teemu says gently.
Paul nods, doesn’t trust himself to speak. Please touch me, he thinks, please.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Teemu says and wraps an arm around Paul’s waist, bringing them closer together, chest to chest.
Teemu’s scent surrounds him, clinging to his skin, and the effects are almost instantaneous. The skin to skin contact feels like heaven and it’s like Paul’s heat hasdied down, skin cooling and the urge for sex floating away.
“There you go,” Teemu smiles, and he takes Paul’s wrist and kissed over his wrist guard.
Paul whines at the gesture, and the soft expression on Teemu’s face that seems to say “I’ll wait for you for as long as you need”. Paul doesn’t understand, but a soft rumble starts up in his chest and Paul buries his face in Teemu’s neck. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing Teemu look at him like that, so loving and caring for no reason.
But Teemu’s always been like that, hasn’t he? So easy with his affection and love, it’s why the fans love him.
Teemu’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And his wrist bare, and unmarked.
~~~~
When Paul wakes up, his heat’s long been broken, and the sun is setting. Teemu’s hand is thrown across his waist and his nose is under Paul’s jaw, subtly scenting him. The feeling of Teemu’s scent rubbing on him makes Paul hot all over, but he gently removes himself from under Teemu, and runs to the bathroom.
It feels painful to wash Teemu’s scent off, but Paul scrubs furiously at his skin. It doesn’t mean anything, Teemu can’t help his alpha instincts. By the time he feels satisfied that Teemu’s scent is no longer therehis stomach is growling with hunger. He dries himself off and gets dressed in the softest pajamas he has, and then heads down to the kitchen to eat.
He’s still eating, trying to compensate for the heat, when Teemu comes down, looking sleep rumpled. He turns on the coffee machine, despite the fact that it’s evening, and slides into the seat in front of Paul, smiling sweetly. “Okay?”
Paul nods and says quietly, “Thank you.”
Teemu looks hesitant for a moment, scent nervous before it settles and he gives Paul one of his signature grins. “Glad to help.”
Paul doesn’t reply, just gives Teemu a small smile of his own and continues to eat. He doesn’t really know how to show Teemu he appreciates him. Teemu’s been helping him with his heats for so long and Paul doesn’t really know how to say thank you. Teemu’s the best friend he’s ever had, the only one who’s stuck by his side during his worst moments and always waited for him.
Paul glances at Teemu but Teemu’s not looking at him, he’s staring at Paul’s wrist guard, a strange expression on his face. Paul has never told anyone about the name written on his wrist, but he thinks that Teemu knows, and he suddenly feels anxious with Teemu staring at it so intently.
It would be so easy to slide the wrist guard off and tell Teemu everything. And in the aftermath of his heat, Paul wants nothing more than to do that—he’s been alone for so long. But he bites his lip and goes to wash his dishes, moving his wrist away from Teemu’s gaze.
“Are you going to stay the night?” Paul asks, concentrating on the dishes.
Teemu hums from where he’s sitting. “No, I have to go check on the house, but don’t miss me too much.”
Paul snorts, but when he sees Teemu out later, his heart clenches tightly in his chest and wrapping his hand around the name on his wrist does nothing to soothe his pain.
Sometimes, Paul thinks that the writing on his wrist will disappear, and he’ll be even lonelier.
When Paul first met Teemu at the All-Star game, he wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t prepared for how bright Teemu was, eyes twinkling and smile glittering, all teeth and joy. But most of all, he wasn’t prepared for the feeling in the pit of stomach, swirling and almost to the point of being nauseous. He wasn’t prepared for how enamoured he felt by Teemu’s smile, skin tingling when it was directed at him.
Hello, I’m Teemu.”
I know, Paul thought. Your name is tattooed in hideous cursive around my wrist, he wanted to say, I’ve been waiting for you. But he said none of those things, because it had been so hard just to get here, and he wasn’t going to let a wicked smile take that away from him, no matter how much his body urged him to.
Instead he said, “I’m Paul.” Teemu’s smile was blinding and the feel of his palm in Paul’s was achingly beautiful.
~~~~
Paul couldn’t help but rave about Teemu after the All-Star game. Despite Paul’s precautions against the other man, they’d immediately hit it off, lighting up the ice. Teemu was such a strange person, bright and soft and strangely laid back for an alpha. Not once during the entire weekend had he tried to intimidate Paul or assert dominance in any way. He was unlike any other alpha Paul had ever met, relaxed, warm and happy to let Paul take the lead on more than one occasion. Paul doesn’t think he’d ever opened up to someone as quickly as he had to Teemu. Teemu was warm, a small ember that burned softly and flickered and Paul couldn’t help but reach out to the warmth.
He had to reign himself in more than once and make sure his infatuation wasn’t that obvious. The media in Anaheim was always on his back, the last thing he needed was them questioning his behaviour at the All-Star game. They already gave him enough shit for being an alternate captain that was an omega.
And so it was to everyone’s surprise, but Paul’s, that Teemu was traded to Anaheim. Paul felt giddy, excited for newfound chemistry and coming Stanley Cups. He didn’t even care about the name on his wrist and what it meant; the potential for great hockey far overpowered that of names and soulmates.
But the excitement didn’t last long and the media latched onto him like a vice, determined to prove him wrong and tear down everything he’d worked so hard to build just for the sake of dynamics.
“Centre Steve Rucchin said ‘Now that we have Teemu, there’s no way everybody can keep on Paul’,” one reporter said (Paul was going to punch Steve). “What does that say about the pressure you’ve been facing and will the presence of an alpha on the team bring this team closer to the Stanley Cup?”
In other words: since you’re an omega that can’t handle the pressure of carrying the team, let an alpha take your role and bring the team success.
"I don’t think dynamics have anything to do with success,” Paul said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “I’m glad that Teemu is joining the team. I think with the skill and talent he brings, combined with the rest of the talent this team holds, the Stanley Cup is within our reach.
The reporters were clearly not satisfied with his answer but Paul would never give them the answer they wanted. He refused to make hockey about dynamics.
Teemu’s arrival to Anaheim was exciting, but not so much to Teemu himself. For the first few days, he was quiet, clearly unhappy with the trade and Paul tried his best to cheer Teemu up and bring that smile back on his face. Maybe he tried too hard, because one day at dinner Teemu grabbed Paul’s wrist, fingers wrapping around the wrist guard that hid his name and smiled softly at Paul, eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Paul, I’m happy to be here.”
The ‘with you’ went unsaid, and Paul sat there, surprised, and skin tingling under Teemu’s warm touch.
“Me too,” Paul said quietly, hesitantly and Teemu let go of his wrist.
That’s as far as they ever went.
Teemu’s back the next day, early in the morning, holding a paper bag and a coffee tray. “Good morning, Paulie. I got you breakfast.”
Paul rolls his eyes, yawning into the palm of his hand, but he lets Teemu in and graciously accepts the breakfast. Teemu’s brought him his favourite, and if Teemu had done this when they were younger, Paul would’ve trilled happily. Now, he knows what he can and can’t have.
“How are Sirpa and the kids?” Paul asks, because he didn’t get a chance to yesterday.
Teemu grins behind his coffee. “They’re well. They say hello.”
“When are they coming back?” Paul loves Teemu’s kids, and Sirpa’s always been nothing but kind to him.
“In time for the school year.”
Paul hums and he frowns as a sudden question he’d never thought of pops in his head. “Why did you come back early?”
Teemu blinks owlishly and brings his cup down, suddenly smelling nervous and hesitant. He laughs. “What? Can’t I just come to see my best friend?”
Paul wrinkles his nose. “You have an ulterior motive.”
“Nope,” Teemu chuckles. “Just came to see your ugly face.”
Paul shakes his head in exasperation but he can’t help but stare at Teemu fondly. He hasn’t seen him in a while, his wrinkles are a little deeper and his hair is a little lighter, but his smile’s the same as it’s always been: huge and blinding and a punch to Paul’s gut because that smile was never his. It belonged to the media, to the fans, to his children and Sirpa, and Paul never had a chance to own it.
~~~~
“I have a surprise for you,” Teemu says after Paul finishes his breakfast.
Paul raises an eyebrow and throws his coffee cup in the garbage. “What is it?” he doesn’t like surprises.
Teemu slides his chair back, making a noise that gets on Paul’s nerves. Some things never change. “You can try to look a little more excited,” Teemu huffs. “I came all the way over here to see you and give you a surprise and you’re looking at me like I’m the media from the 90s.”
Paul laughs. “At least the media never barged into my home and ruined my floor.”
“Paulie, why are you always so mean?” Teemu pouts, then grins. “Anyways, come to the living room, your surprise is waiting.”
Paul’s living room looks exactly the same with the exception of Teemu standing there and holding a DVD with a huge grin. “I got you the Star Wars movie pack, it has the new one too!”
Paul pushes back the happy trill threatening to make its way up his throat as he’s enveloped by a huge fondness for Teemu. He can’t even open his mouth to say something, he knows he’ll start trilling immediately.
Teemu’s expression softens. “You sit down, I’ll make popcorn and set everything up.”
Paul doesn’t even argue, just settles down on the couch in front of the TV, too endeared by Teemu. Teemu’s always been like this, charming Paul with his actions and quicksilver smile.
Teemu brings the popcorn, puts the movie on and doesn’t bother to give Paul any personal space, just puts his arm around Paul and plasters himself against his side, feet on the coffee table. It’s too domestic and fond, and Paul’s sitting with his favourite person in the world watching his favourite movie and he can’t help the trilling that escapes his mouth, soft and happy. He knows his scent’s gone all warm like fresh bread and coffee, the way it always does around Teemu. The trilling catches Teemu’s attention and he glances down at Paul. Paul flushes in embarrassment and he can’t help but look away from Teemu’s gaze. Teemu’s expression is too soft, he smells too happy, too much like warm cocoa, and he’s looking at Paul too fondly, too—
Paul looks away because it’s too much. Teemu’s scent dims a little, and he lets out a soft sigh before placing a kiss atop Paul’s head.
Paul can’t help but feel like he’s disappointed him.
Teemu’s scent confused Paul, mostly because he didn’t smell like normal alphas. While most alphas smelled harsh and sharp, like the smell of pinecones and evergreens, Teemu smelled like sweet nectarines, inoffensive and friendly. It was intoxicating and it drove Paul crazy all the time.
But the reporters and fans loved it, because it was calming and quiet. The reporters never got frustrated with him and the fans adored him, and Teemu’s scent calmed the team down more than Paul’s omega scent ever could. Paul knew he always smelled bitter, unappealing and harsh to the nose, and it always made the reporters wrinkle their noses in disgust, and made the fans think he was unfriendly. The fans immediately loved Teemu because he was friendly and happy and everything Paul wasn’t.
“You just have to smile more,” Teemu told him after another horrible encounter with the media.
Paul glared at him.
“Here, watch me."
Paul did watch, watched as Teemu serenaded the reporters with his broken English and Finnish accent. Combined with his wicked grin, it was a lethal combination, and Paul struggled to look away.
Then the hockey world collectively lost its mind when Paul was named captain and Teemu, the only alpha on the team, was named an alternate. Dynamic stereotypes annoyed Paul to no end. Sure he wasn’t as open and friendly as Teemu, but he’d worked so hard to get to where he was, and he deserved the captaincy. Besides, Teemu had only just gotten traded to Anaheim, how would it be fair to name him captain over Paul?
During the press conference where Paul and his alternates were introduced, most of the questions were directed, of course, at Teemu.
“Teemu, how do you feel about being named alternate?” someone asked. “And do you think complications will arise in having an omega captain, considering Paul wasn’t able to handle the pressure last season?”
Paul bristled, and he knew the scent he was giving off was acidic, crackling and sour. But Teemu put his hand on Paul’s thigh under the table, light and calming, and gave off the scent of baby powder, never fazed and always soft.
“What you mean Paul not handle pressure?” Teemu said with a grin, a confused furrow between his eyebrows, and Paul couldn’t tell whether it was an act or not. “He tie with me for scoring, and carry team all by himself last year. I think Paul is a great player.”
Paul couldn’t help the pleasure that ran up his spine at hearing those words. This was why he loved Teemu, because Teemu would never under any circumstances demean Paul or look down at him because of his dynamic.
The omega part of him was happy at hearing the alpha praise him, and the name on his wrist throbbed pleasurably. It was good to know that no matter what he did or what the media and fans said, Teemu would always have his back.
~~~
Halfway through the ‘96-‘97 season, Paul got his first heat since Teemu’s arrival. After their game against San Jose, as he was changing back into his game day suit, Paul felt it uncurling in the pit of his stomach.
“Shit,” Paul muttered to himself. This was the first time his heat came during a road trip, and the first heat with an alpha on the team. To make matters worse, his heat kit was at home; Paul had nothing to help him through this.
Paul glanced up, and noticed the entire locker room was staring at him, the rookies less discreetly so.
“What’re you looking at?” Paul snapped, feeling himself flush hot all over.
When Teemu got out of the shower, towel hanging low on his lips and smelling like that disgusting body wash he used, Paul stood up abruptly. He needed to get out of here before he did something stupid.
“Paul?” Teemu’s eyes were wide.
“I have to go.” Paul said, tearing his eyes away from Teemu’s chest and rushing out of the locker room.
He called for a cab to take him back to the hotel and the ride felt like it took forever. It took all his willpower not to rub himself against the cab seats. Get a hold of yourself, he though, this isn’t the first heat you’ve had. But it was the first heat with an alpha on the team, and that alone made him hot and flustered.
By the time the cab reached the hotel, Paul was feverish, desperate to relieve the throbbing between his legs. By some miracle he managed to make it up to his room without making a fool of himself. It was when he was standing in front of the hotel room, that he realized with the utmost despair, that he didn’t have his key card with him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was he supposed to do now?
He stood there for a moment, trying to breathe. It’s okay, he thought, I’ll just go down to the lobby and get the key. But the thought of going all the way down, of possibly encountering any alphas made him queasy.
Then all of a sudden, Teemu was there, standing in front of him, concern all over his face. “Paul, are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to touch Paul’s cheek.
The feel of Teemu’s hand on his cheek sent a flare of heat up Paul’s spine and he almost leaned into it before catching himself.
“Teemu,” Paul whined. The omega part of him was pleased with having Teemu, his alpha, so close but the rational part of him wanted nothing but to get away. If he did this with Teemu, he would regret it for the rest of his life.
Teemu’s scent softened and his nostrils flared, looking at Paul longingly. He pulled his hand back, leaving Paul’s cheek cold. “Sorry,” he muttered and shoved a key card in Paul’s hand. “Take care of yourself.”
He hesitated before kissing Paul’s forehead and disappearing down the hallway. Paul swore and struggled to fit the key card in. He wanted to chase after Teemu and bring him back. When he finally managed to get into his room, he locked the door and stripped out of his clothes, collapsing on the bed.
It was the most miserable heat he’d ever had. He purred pathetically in an attempt to comfort himself, shoving back onto his own fingers uselessly, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. The sheets were too rough on his sensitive skin, and his fingers weren’t enough and his wrist was throbbing—and he wanted Teemu, he wanted his alpha, he didn’t want to be alone—
Paul sobbed when he finally orgasmed, too painful and sensitive to be pleasurable. His pillow was wet with tears, sheets damp with sweat and slick. The room stank like heat and Paul shivered, a painful feeling in his chest.
He barely had time to drink water before his heat took over, and it was hours before it finally broke, leaving him worn out and miserable.
Suffice to say, it the worst night of Paul’s life.
~~~
It took a long time for Paul and the media to notice something about Teemu that was so blatantly obvious: Teemu didn’t wear a wrist guard.
They were sitting in the locker room after a win against Vancouver, and the media was interviewing Teemu. Paul wasn’t paying attention, just focusing on efficiently taking off his gear so he could make a quick escape before the media latched onto him next. But he noticed when the chattering in the locker room stopped, an all attention focused on Teemu’s post-game interview.
"No,” Teemu answered whatever he had been asked, “I don’t wear a wrist guard, you’re right. I was born without a name.” he said, smiling as if it wasn’t a big deal, and held his wrist up for everyone to see.
Paul’s brain short circuited as he stared at Teemu’s wrist, bare and naked. He wrapped his hand around his own wrist and blinked rapidly, shocked. Teemu didn’t have a name. Teemu didn’t have a name. The thought kept repeating in his head. How had he not noticed? How could he have let himself hold on to the hope that the Teemu on his wrist was Teemu Selanne, the Finnish Flash?
And so the news of Teemu’s wrist spread everywhere and wherever Paul turned he was bound to find some reminder that Teemu didn’t have a name. He tried to avoid Teemu after that because facing him and talking to him was too painful. He cursed himself for feeling this way, for letting a name on his wrist and Teemu’s sharp smile charm him and give him a false sense of hope.
So he avoided Teemu because when he saw him all he could see was Teemu’s bare wrist, and it hurt too much. Teemu noticed this eventually and cornered Paul in the hotel room one day, a frown on his face and his scent upset.
“Are you avoiding me?”
Paul didn’t reply. He felt bad that Teemu was upset, but at the same time, the sight of Teemu’s wrist and the unpleasant throbbing in his own deemed to hurtful, too bitter for him to handle. It was one thing to admit that you would be alone forever and it was another to have that fact constantly shoved in your face.
“Is this because of my wrist?” Teemu paused. “Or because of what happened during your heat?”
Paul eyes widened and he felt a blush start to crawl up his neck at the mention of his heat. It had been one of the most embarrassing moment of his life, he’d barely been able to look Teemu in the eye for a week.
"It’s not that…” Paul started helplessly, fingers circling around his wrist guard unconsciously. “Teemu…”
Teemu’s gaze dropped down to Paul’s wrist and his eyes widened. “Paul…do you—are you—.” He stammered, looking pained.
It was probably at that moment that Teemu guessed, and Paul’s stomach dropped. He didn’t really know what Teemu was asking but he knew he wouldn’t like it, so he whispered, “What?”
Teemu reached forward but abruptly pulled his hand back when he saw Paul flinch. It was as if he could read Paul’s expression, saying “please don’t talk about the name on my wrist”. Teemu sighed and his expression softened. “Never mind, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. But will you please stop avoiding me? I miss you.”
Paul sighed in relief and nodded and the happy expression on Teemu’s face was enough to convince Paul that Teemu’s happiness was more important than his own. He would rather see Teemu’s wrist rather than see him upset. And that, said a lot about Paul as a person.
~~~~
Teemu’s first year in Anaheim, Paul and Teemu became best friends, bonding through annoying media personnel and great chemistry on the ice. Despite the knowledge that Teemu had no name, Paul couldn’t help but think that maybe there was a chance. He was still naïve back then, young and stupid, and Teemu hadn’t gotten married and broken his heart yet.
So in that first year, when Teemu begged Paul to go with him to Disneyland, Paul couldn’t say no. he was head over heels for Teemu, and even though he hated crowded spaces, he couldn’t deny Teemu anything. Besides, Disneyland was one of Teemu’s favourite places ever, and it made him happy.
(Teemu, the once upon a time kindergarten teacher, loved Disneyland. Who was surprised?)
Teemu’s back the next morning, and Paul figures that Teemu’s going to be around for a while so he should get used to it.
“Good morning Paulie,” Teemu says as he shoulders past Paul into the house. “What’re we doing today?”
“We’re not doing anything.” Paul says and closes the front door. “I have a ballroom class to get to.” He heads to the kitchen and rolls his eyes when he sees Teemu rummaging through his fridge.
“You still go to those?” Teemu asks, pulling out a carton of eggs.
Paul shrugs. “They help.”
“Cool,” Teemu says, cracking an egg. “Can I come?”
Paul blinks, surprised and he immediately thinks: that is not a good idea.
Teemu must sense Paul’s hesitation because he pouts and gives Paul the puppy eyes. “Please Paulie? You can’t leave me here, I’ll be bored.”
Paul snorts. “Yeah right, you just want to see me dance.”
Teemu grins and Paul knows he’s already given in.
~~~~
Paul’s right, it wasn’t a good idea, because Paul’s instructor is delighted to see Teemu, and when she announces that everyone has to get in pairs, Teemu immediately says, “Paul and I are partners.”
Fuck, Paul thinks, this is what he didn’t want.
When the instructor tells them to get in position, Paul sighs defeatedly and figures he might as well get on with it. He doesn’t let Teemu take the leading position and Teemu doesn’t take it, just lets Paul put his hands on his hips. It annoys Paul a little, that Teemu’s willing to give and back down so easily, always letting Paul take the lead with ease. Any other alpha probably would never let Paul do this. Teemu’s exactly what Paul wants in an alpha and Paul hates to admit it.
So Paul leads, almost aggressively, and Teemu tries to get the steps right, not sounding apologetic at all when he says sorry for stepping on Paul’s feet. Paul doesn’t find it endearing at all, really.
Paul relaxes into it eventually because he can’t stay irritated for long when he’s staring at Teemu’s stupid face.
“You’re good at this,”
“Well yeah,” Paul rolls his eyes. “I’ve been going to these lessons for years.”
“You’re very graceful,” Teemu smiles fondly and Paul ducks his head.
“Well for someone nicknamed the Finnish Flash, you sure aren’t as graceful on your feet as you are on your skates.”
Teemu laughs and his hand slips beneath Paul’s shirt, fingers hot on his skin. Paul’s suddenly hyperaware of their proximity, but he can’t even bring himself to care because he’s too busy staring at Teemu’s mouth, at this smile and laugh. That’s always been one of his favourite things about Teemu. His smile and laugh always make Paul warm inside, always make him feel an overwhelming fondness, a deep wanting.
Stop, Paul tells himself, stop doing this to yourself. Why do you always torture yourself with something you can’t have? Paul knows, he knows he shouldn’t have said yes, shouldn’t have let Teemu come along and charm him as always.
It seemed that with getting over Teemu, Paul always took one step forward and two steps back.
~~~~
After the ballroom class (in which Teemu did nothing butstep on Paul’s feet, constantly laugh at him, and stare fondly at him the entire time) Teemu drives them to Paul’s place. As Paul’s revaluating his life in the car, he gets a text from the nosiest friend he has in the league. Scott.
Hey, the text says, I heard Teemu’s back in town, come over for dinner tonight?
Paul groans and (lightly) hits his head against the window.
“What’s wrong?” Teemu asks, tapping an annoying beat, probably some top 40 pop song, on the steering wheel.
“Scott wants us to come over for dinner tonight, you want to go?” Paul asks, pleading no with his eyes.
“Sure,” Teemu laughs. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Paul groans again. “Fine but we’re going to have to stop to get a bottle of wine first.”
Teemu cracks up.
~~~~
Paul fidgets all the way to Scott’s house, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt irritably. What’d he get himself into now?
Lisa opens the door when they arrive, and she takes the bottle of wine they brought with a kiss to both of their cheeks, and leads them into the house. They make small talk in the living room and then Scott comes in, wiping his hands on a kitchen apron and holding the bottle of wine with a devious grin.
“Let me guess whose idea it was to bring this?” he says. “You’re such a loser, Paul. Some things never change.”
Paul rolls his eyes as Teemu laughs beside him.
“I even made your favourite,” Scott laughs. “Chicken pasta and vegetables, didn’t want to mess up your routine.”
“Fuck off,” Paul laughs, and finally relaxes.
~~~~
Dinner’s not as bad as Paul made it out to be. He actually as fun. Lisa and Scott are great, and the wine makes him a good side of tipsy. It’s a little too domestic for him, more of a double date than Teemu and Paul just visiting a friend, and it’s another reminder of what Paul can’t have.
But Paul tries not to think about that. He just tries to enjoy it and pretend for one night, that everything’s how it’s supposed to be and how he dreamt it would be when he was a clueless 19 year old.
One year, Paul and the alternates organized a rookie dinner at Paul’s house. Paul was preparing the food(??), Teemu and David standing around uselessly when they started making bets.
“How much do you want to bet that’s he’s going to terrorize the rookies?” David said.
Teemu laughed and stole a piece from the vegetables Paul was cutting. “I am not going to terrorize the rookies,” Paul said, slapping Teemu’s hand.
He lied. He did terrorize the rookies.
He had a legitimate reason though. The rookies came into his house loud and chaotic and empty handed. Paul was raised properly, so he stood there and lectured them about proper guest behaviour and etiquette while Teemu and David laughed behind their hands.
When he was done lecturing them, he sent them to set up the table in the dining room and turned to glare at Teemu and David. “What?” he frowned, hands on his hips.
"I think you scared them shitless,” David said.
“You’re so mean, Paulie,” Teemu smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Paul sniffed indignantly and ignored the look Teemu was giving him. “I am not, they need to learn proper manners.”
The next time the rookies were invited to dinner, they were an hour late but they brought Paul a nice bottle of wine and flowers for Robin, Paul’s chef. Teemu laughed and called them whipped. Paul called it progress.
~~~
The first time Paul ever trilled, it was back before Teemu had gotten engaged. Paul was a Star Wars nerd, but he hated going to the theatre because it was too crowded and there were too many people for his liking. So when the new Star Wars movie came out, Paul never bothered to go see it. Instead, Teemu surprised him with a copy of it when it came out in stores.
It was such a nice gesture, so sweet, and Paul wasn’t over his infatuation with Teemu yet, so as they watched the movie together, a strange rumble erupted through Paul’s chest.
Teemu startled beside him and Paul coughed. “What?”
“You’re trilling,” Teemu said, a little awed.
“Oh,” Paul said dumbly, he’d never done that before.
“You’ve never trilled before?”
Paul blushed. “That’s none of your business!”
Teemu grinned mischievously but then his smile became smaller, a little shyer, scent like baby powder. “It just means you’re happy, right?”
Paul nodded. He’d been through enough dynamics classes in high school to know what trilling meant , the involuntary sound that essentially meant he was happy and ready to mate
All Teemu replied with was, “cool,”
~~~~
It was not “cool”. It seemed as if Teemu has lost all his chill. It seemed as if his usual friendliness and attitude towards Paul was amplified tenfold. He was constantly doing things for Paul, getting him things and Paul didn’t get it.
They were at a bar one night after a win, and the moment Paul’s finished his beer, Teemu went to get him another one.
“What’s your boy doing, Paul?” Scott asked. “He’s been acting weird lately.”
“I don’t know,” Paul muttered, annoyed.
Scott hummed, then said quietly, “Well, it looks like he’s trying to court you.”
Paul’s eyes snapped to the beta. “What?” he hissed.
Scott shrugged. “Just saying, that’s what Lisa did when she was courting me.”
Paul frowned and watched as Teemu came back to their table with two drinks. “Here you go, Paulie—“
"Can we talk?” Paul interrupted.
"Oh boy,” Scott muttered behind his drink.
Teemu blinked. “Um—sure, let’s go outside.”
Paul glared at Scott and followed Teemu out of the bar. It was quieter outside, and smelled like pizza from the store down the street and Teemu’s nervous scent. A car honked as it drove by and Paul glanced at the shadows the streetlights cast on Teemu’s face.
“What’s up Paul?”
“What’re you doing?”
Teemu blinked. “What—“
“You keep bringing me things and being nice. Scott said it looks like you’re courting me.”
Teemu blushed and smelled like embarrassment. “I wasn’t—I was just trying to make you trill, make you happy.”
"Well stop that,” Paul snapped and immediately felt guilty when he saw Teemu’s hurt expression. “Look you don’t need to make me trill to know I’m happy. So just—just go back to the way we were before, before someone notices, okay?”
“Okay,” Teemu said quietly. “Whatever you want Paulie.” But his face was closed off and his scent was weird, lacking its usual luster and sweetness. Teemu smelled hurt and Paul didn’t understand why.
That was the first time Paul felt that he’d disappointed Teemu.
~~~~~
One of the worst concussions of Paul’s career came in a game against the Blackhawks. He was standing by the net, when Gary Suter gave him a cross check to the face. The effect was instantaneous and Paul fell back to the ice, clutching at his throbbing face, head reverberating with pain.
That was it for Paul for the rest of the year.
The concussion was horrible, worse than all the other ones he’d dealt with and watching his team suffer without him made it even worse. The Ducks ended up finishing second tolast in the west and each passing day, Paul cursed Gary Suter and his measly four game suspension.
Of course, whenever the team wasn’t on the road, Teemu was always there, worrying over Paul and sticking to his side like glue. At first Paul found it endearing, but then it started to get on his nerves because Teemu was a reminder of what Paul couldn’t have at the moment, and he was always too happy and soft and Paul was always so miserable. He just wanted to be left alone with his headaches. As much as he loved Teemu, everything about him right now was getting on Paul’s nerves and Paul couldn’t even feel guilty for being relieved when Teemu left with the team for a road trip.
Of course no matter how much he lied to himself the truth was obvious. If Paul was miserable when Teemu was there, then he was even worse when Teemu wasn’t. So he resorted to an old trick from his teens to comfort himself: purring.
Purring was similar to trilling in terms of sound, but unlike trilling, purring was voluntary. Omegas generally purred to provide comfort and healing. In sports, omegas purred for the team to ease stress and tension, and rookies were usually paired with a veteran omega to provide guidance and comfort. At an early age, Paul learned that purring could provide self-comfort too.
So when Teemu wasn’t there, Paul purred. It was a miserable sound, sad and hurt and it didn’t always work but it brought a sense of peace, made the pain in his head slightly more manageable. But one evening, nothing was working. Paul’s head was killing him and he was alone in the dark, curled under his blanket because the light only made things worse. Everything felt sensitive, and his purrs sounded like the most pathetic things in the world. They came in short spurts, weak and sounding absolutely depressing.
The door to Paul’s room creaked. “Paul?”
Paul swore. That was another thing. He’d been forgetting things lately, like the fact that the team was supposed to return from their road trip today. If he’d remembered that, he wouldn’t be purring right now. Self-purring was generally frowned upon and Paul felt embarrassed that Teemu had seen him like this.
Teemu sat on the bed by Paul’s head and ran his hand through Paul’s hair. Paul made a sound in the back of his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. “Your head,” Teemu said softly. “What can I do, Paulie?”
Paul couldn’t even reply, just let out another miserable purr, halfway between a whimper and a sob. He didn’t even care about being embarrassed anymore, he wanted to cry. He just wanted the pain to go away.
“It’s okay,” Teemu shushed him gently, and placed Paul’s head in his lap. He began stroking Paul’s hair and gently massaging his scalp and forehead. At the same time, Teemu’s scent became thicker and wrapped around Paul. Before he knew it, Paul was asleep.
~~~~
The road to recovery was tumultuous. There were frequent trips to the doctor, and ballroom dancing, and slow training, and Teemu helping whenever he wasn’t occupied by family. When Paul was finally cleared by the doctors for light training, the Ducks had long failed to qualify for the playoffs, and it was summer in Anaheim, warm and sunny. And Teemu was still here.
“Aren’t you supposed to be heading back to Finland?” Paul asked him one day.
“I—yes,” Teemu frowned, looking unhappy.
Paul sighed. “Look Teemu, I’ll be fine without you. Stop worrying, you have a family you need to get to.”
“But you’re still not better,” Teemu argued. “You’re not even allowed to drive yet, who will take you to your appointments and—“
“I’ll be fine, stop worrying. Go back to your family.”
Teemu’s frown didn’t let up. “Fine, but you have to call me every day so I know you’re okay.”
Paul laughed and said, “You’re such a loser, Teemu.”
But he did call, every day, because the sound of Teemu’s voice, no matter how far away, always made Paul feel better.
The morning after their dinner with Scott, Paul wakes up with a slight hangover, and when he enters his kitchen he’s surprised to see that Teemu isn’t there. He shrugs it off and goes to make breakfast, Teemu must’ve gotten bored of him, he probably has better things to do than hang out with Paul all day.
Without Teemu distracting him all day, Paul manages to get a lot done around the house. He cleans and does the laundry, all the stuff he’s been meaning to do but never got around to. Sometime in the afternoon, there’s a knock on his door in the beat of some pop song that’s been playing on the radio all the time, and Paul groans. He knew it was too good to be true, there’s no way Teemu would just leave him alone.
Paul opens the door and Teemu doesn’t bother with pleasantries, just barges into Paul’s home and says, “Where are your skates?”
“Hi Paul, how are you?” Paul says sarcastically. “I’m great Teemu, thanks for asking.”
Teemu stops rummaging through one of Paul’s storage closets and smiles sheepishly at Paul. “Paulie, my favourite person in the world other than my children, how are you doing? You’re doing well? That’s great. Now where are your skates?”
Paul crosses his arms. He’s not amused in the slightest. “Why do you need my skates, Teemu?”
“So we can go skating?” Teemu says like it’s obvious. “I booked the rink for a few hours.”
“What? Who said I was going?”
“Paul,” Teemu whines, looking exasperate. “I told you about this.”
Paul sighs, knowing Teemu, he’d probably asked Paul when he was drunk or asked him if he wanted to skate a long time ago.
“Sorry Teemu, I don’t remember and I’m not going.”
“Oh come on Paul, when was the last time you skated?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Paul snaps, finally losing his patience. “You can’t just schedule stuff like that and not tell me and then expect me to come. I hate when you do this.”
Annoyed, he brushes past Teemu and heads into the living room where he sits on his couch and fumes silently. It’s been a long time since Paul skated, and Teemu can’t just expect him to come and happily agree. Going to the rink, skating on the ice took a lot of mental preparation. Paul had left hockey on a bad note. Too many concussions and hits had forced him to retire early, leaving nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth, and a never ending headache.
Teemu doesn’t follow him into the living room, and with a sinking feeling, Paul realizes that Teemu’s probably left. He suddenly feels guilty for snapping at him like that. Teemu probably just wanted to skate with him again, and Paul got angry and snapped at him.
There’s a rustling in the doorway and Paul glances up in surprise. Teemu’s standing there, rubbing one foot against the other nervously while looking at Paul with a hesitant smile. Paul doesn’t say anything, just makes a humph sound, maybe a little bit pleased Teemu didn’t leave. Teemu takes that as a hint and comes to sit beside Paul, giving him absolutely no personal space.
“I’m sorry, Paulie.” He says, tickling Paul’s face with his long hair. “I promise from now on I’ll probably ask before I do something like this. So please forgive me.”
“Whatever,” Paul muttered.
Paul could feel Teemu’s grin against his cheek. “Great, so will you come? It’ll be just the two of us, just like old times, yeah? Please?”
“Just the two of us?” Paul repeats. “No one else? No fans, no—“
“Just the two of us,” Teemu affirms.
Paul sighs and thinks about it. He does miss skating with Teemu, and Teemu’s looking at him like he’ll be the happiest man on earth if Paul says yes, so Paul lets out another sigh and says, “Fine, but you owe me dinner.”
Teemu plants a wet kiss on Paul’s cheek and jumps off the couch. “Great! Where are your skate and helmet and stuff?”
Paul makes a disgusted face and wipes his cheek for show, even though his heart’s swelling with fondness. “It’s all in the basement.”
Teemu’s gone in an instant.
~~~~
The rink’s empty when they get there just like Teemu promised and it feels so good to be inside the rink again. The smell is bitter, cold and assaulting his nose and Paul takes a deep breath, lets the cold prickle his lungs and wash over his skin. Surfing will never be better than actual hockey itself.
Paul makes sure his helmet is strapped on tight, and then he steps out onto the ice. The first glide of his skates across the fresh sheet of ice feels like a calming against his skin, new life being breathed into him. It feels amazing, and by the time he’s skated two laps around the rink, Teemu’s arrived with a crate of pucks and their sticks. He’s leaning on his stick and watching Paul with the utmost expression of happiness. It makes Paul warm all over.
Paul skates up to him and sprays him with ice. “So old man, think you can beat me in a game of keep away?”
Teemu crows. “Ha ha Paulie, we’ll see about that! I wasn’t nicknamed the Finnish Flash for nothing.”
Paul laughs and chases him across the ice.
~~~~
Teemu’s an annoying little shit. He slashes Paul more than once and shoves him against the boards (extremely lightly) and he keeps chirping him in this disgusting sweet way that’s not even chirping and ugh…it’s honestly the best two hours of Paul’s life.
Teemu corners Paul against the boards after he checks him one time, trapping him with his stick against Paul’s chest. His scent is all weird, like strawberries and yogurt and he’s staring intently into Paul’s eyes, expression thoughtful and Paul doesn’t know what it all means. He’s never been good at decoding scents and the feel of Teemu pressed against him sends a pleasurable zing up his spine. Other than that he doesn’t know what Teemu’s thinking or what he’s doing, and it’s beginning to annoy Paul. He’s always been able to understand everything about Teemu until Teemu had gotten divorced from Sirpa a few years ago. Since then, Teemu’s kind of become a blank wall, expressions and scents almost always unreadable.
“What’re you doing?” Paul asks, pushing slightly against Teemu’s chest.
Teemu blinks and takes a few steps back. “Nothing,” he grins. “Bet you I can score first!”
By the time he’s skated off, his scent’s returned to normal and Paul sighs, going after him. He doesn’t think about it and just adds it to the list of “weird Teemu things.”
~~~~
Paul wins the game in the end, and he isn’t sure if Teemu let him win or not, considering Teemu’s skills had to be better than his since he’d played hockey more recently than Paul. But Paul doesn’t care, if he’s being honest with himself, this was one of the best days he’s had in such a long time. His head was clear and he felt relaxed, and he had such a good time. He owes it all to Teemu, who’s always done his best to make Paul happy.
Teemu drives Paul home and they sit together in the car in the driveway. Paul doesn’t make a move to get out of the car, he feels like he needs to say something. He’s always been bad at saying thank you, but today meant so much to Paul. It’s going to be a day he holds close to his heart for a long time, and Paul wants Teemu to know that.
It’s Teemu who speaks first. “I missed playing with you. When you left, the ice was never the same without you. So it means a lot to me that you came.”
Paul blinks rapidly and swallows, feeling his throat close up. Teemu’s so honest, so easy with his emotions, and it’s during moments like this that Paul just wants to tell Teemu everything, the name on his wrist and how he feels…and Paul will never say any of that.
Paul rubs his palms against the rough fabric of his jeans and clears his throat, feeling himself flush all over. “I—uh, today meant a lot to me too.” He finally manages to say.
Teemu seems a little surprised, considering Paul rarely says things like that, but a slow pleased smile takes over his face and he hesitantly runs his fingers down Paul’s arm and squeezes gently over Paul’s wrist guard before letting go.
Paul breaks out in goose bumps everywhere. “Um so thank you for today, I’m gonna go.” He mutters quickly and rushes out of Teemu’s car and into the safety of his own home.
He has to squeeze his eyes shut and take deep breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart. What Teemu just did in the car is not normal, at least not normal for them. An alpha running their hand up and down an omega’s arm is a courting gesture, so what’s Teemu doing? No, Paul thinks, you’re overthinking this. Teemu’s always been like this, easy with his affections and gestures. So it doesn’t mean anything.
Paul has trouble sleeping that night. He keeps tracing over the path where Teemu touched him, thinking of what ifs and imagining a life that could’ve been.
Teemu was traded on a Tuesday.
It was to San Jose of all places and it took Paul by surprise. Teemu was leading the Ducks in scoring—but the Ducks were last in the league, Paul reminded himself. What a fool he was to thinking either of them were safe, that they would play together for the rest of their lives. You’ve let a name on your wrist serenade you and trick you, Paul told himself, let your feeling for Teemu cloud your eyes and lead you blind. You’re so stupid.
Paul almost choked up when he heard the news, the thought of hockey without Teemu, of not seeing Teemu’s stupid smile every day was horrible, and it took him a while to compose himself before Teemu came over to say goodbye.
The first thing Teemu did when he came was wrap Paul in a hug. Something must’ve showed in Paul’s scent because Teemu was exuding a heavy load of calming scents, and it did nothing but get on Paul’s nerves.
“Sorry,” Teemu said, pulling back. “I know you don’t like—“
“It’s okay,” Paul interrupted, annoyed, and turned to head into his living room.
He settled on the couch and crossed his arms. He hated this, hated that Teemu was here to say goodbye, hated that even after all these years he wasn’t over the other man.
Teemu sighed. “Paul…”
“I don’t care,” Paul snapped. He felt childish and emotionally unstable, and he absolutely hated it.
"Come on Paul, how do you think I feel?”
Paul frowned and tried to tone down the aggressive scent he was giving off, suddenly enveloped by guilt. He was being selfish, Teemu was the one getting traded here, Paul should be supporting him.
“Sorry,” Paul muttered.
Teemu scooted closer to him on the couch. “It won’t be that bad Paulie. San Jose’s only five hours away and we’ll play each other a few times during the year.”
“You’re right,” Paul said, putting on a fake smile. Leave it to Teemu to be completely optimistic about a trade and not worry. Here’s another reminder, Paul thought, Teemu will never be as affected by this as you are.
“I’ll miss you,” Teemu said quietly.
Paul didn’t reply with a ‘me too’, instead he said, “Only five hours, right?” it came out more bitter than he intended, and he felt bad right away. Teemu didn’t deserve that.
Teemu only sighed. “Well I’m having surgery on my knee so I won’t be playing for a couple of weeks, but my flight leaves tonight, so do you want to make me dinner?”
Paul only nodded.
~~~~
When it came time for Teemu to leave for his flight, Paul was quiet. He wasn’t sure what to say. He felt that, if he opened his mouth everything he’d been keeping inside over the years would come out, and that wouldn’t be fair to Teemu. His heart clenched as they stood in the doorway, staring at each other. Paul couldn’t bring himself to say anything, to say goodbye.
Teemu was the first to do something. He wrapped Paul in a hug and Paul buried his face in the crook of Teemu’s neck, allowing himself this moment. Teemu smelled like freshly cut grass and rain, sad and hopeful and it made Paul feel like crying.
“It’s okay, Paulie,” Teemu said softly, kissing the top of his head. “We’ll play together again.”
Paul choked up, tears welling in his eyes and he couldn’t even reply. Instead he just hugged Teemu harder.
Teemu’s napping on the couch, feet in Paul’s lap. He’s snoring softly and Paul finds it difficult to focus on the baseball game playing on TV when Teemu’s so close. He wants to be disgusted with himself for still feeling like this, but he allows himself the moment and lets himself look longingly at the other man’s face.
Teemu’s face is smoothed out from sleep, calm and quiet. His hair’s getting long again and there’s a strand fluttering up every time he breathes. It must be annoying him, because his nose wrinkles in his sleep. Paul stares at him fondly, hand clutched around his wrist. It brings back warm memories of when Sirpa used to cut Teemu’s hair and everyone would make fun of his haircut. Paul remembers loving that haircut, its crookedness and all. He thought it suited Teemu.
There’s a sound from the doorway and Paul’s head snaps up, surprised. It’s his sister, Michiko, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Shit,” Paul swears, he forgot she was coming over. Teemu’s distracted him so much over the last few days, Paul’s forgotten about his own sister. Gently, he removes Teemu’s feet from his lap and gets up, leading Michiko into the kitchen.
“Hi,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kind of forgot you were coming.”
“Hmm,” Michiko hums, putting her purse on the small dining table. “I figured.”
Paul swallows. “Uh, do you want anything to drink?” he’s never felt this awkward around his sister but he can feel her watching him, he knows she’s going to ask or say something about Teemu.
“Juice would be nice,” she sniffs.
Paul rolls his eyes and get the orange juice out of the fridge, pouring her a glass. He hands it to her and leans against the counter, crossing his arms. Michiko sips her juice and narrows her eyes at him. “What’s Teemu doing here?”
Paul sighs, he knew it was coming. “He’s my friend, am I not allowed to have friends over?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “You two looked awfully cuddly there.”
“Michiko—.” Paul started, exasperated, but Teemu walks into the kitchen, interrupting him.
“Michiko!” Teemu exclaims with a grin. “I thought I head your voice! How’s my favourite Kariya doing?”
Paul snorts but Michiko stands up to give Teemu a hug. “I’m great, Teemu, how are the kids?” her voice is short and polite and Paul rolls his eyes as she makes small talk with Teemu. Michiko’s never been fond of Teemu.
“Okay Paul, we’re going to get dinner, okay?” Teemu’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts.
Paul blinks. “Uh, okay?”
“You go ahead to the car Teemu,” Michiko says. “I just need to talk to Paul for a second.”
“Sure,” Teemu says, and heads out of the kitchen.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Michiko grips Paul’s arm and hisses, “What’re you doing?”
Paul sighs. “Michiko—“
She doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “Paul, I thought you were over him, why are you doing this to yourself again?”
“I—“ Paul starts, but his voice breaks. She has a point.
Michiko’s expression softens. “Look, I just remember what happened when he got married, okay? You were so broken, and I don’t want that to happen again.”
Paul laughs bitterly. “You don’t have to worry about that, I was young and naïve back then. I’m older now.”
Michiko stares at him but she doesn’t get a chance to say something because Teemu honks from the car.
“We’ll be back with dinner,” she says and leaves the kitchen, grumbling under her breath about how annoying Teemu is. Paul laughs softly at her but he can’t help but think about what she said. She’s right, of course, she always is, and he hates that she brought up what happened when Teemu got married. It had been a horrible period for Paul. He’d always known Teemu would get married to Sirpa but when Teemu had announced his engagement, Paul had been absolutely crushed. He was young back then, so impossibly in love with Teemu and the name on his wrist. He’d cried for hours on end, so heartbroken. One of the hardest things he’d ever done was attend the wedding, but ultimately Teemu’s happiness won him over and Paul shoved everything inside, vowing to never feel like that again.
And now here he is again, stepping on the same path towards heartbreak. It’s just, what is he supposed to do when Teemu’s there, crowding into his life all over again? He’s never really gotten over his feelings for the other man, he’s just resigned himself to the fact that he can never have what he wants. Even when Teemu and Sirpa got divorced he hadn’t let himself hope, hadn’t let himself think of maybes. But now Teemu’s tearing into that gaping wound and Paul doesn’t know what to do.
~~~~
Paul’s still sitting in the kitchen, reading some science fiction book that seems to be all the hype when laughter and loud chatter startle him. He glances up, placing a bookmark in his book, and watches as Teemu and Michiko walk into the kitchen. Michiko’s laughing at something Teemu said. Paul’s immediately suspicious.
Teemu hold up the takeout bags, grinning brightly. “We brought food!”
“You’re late,” Paul says, unimpressed.
“Oh shut up, Paul,” Michiko rolls her eyes. “We brought your favourite.”
Paul narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Something’s off about Teemu and Michiko, different now that from when they’d left, but he can’t just place his finger on it.
He watched them all throughout dinner, and then finally when they’re busy talking about cars, completely ignoring him, he figures it out. Michiko’s never been fond of Teemu, always disliked him because of what he’d made Paul go through all those years ago, hated him for not being the man on Paul’s wrist. But now, now she’s talking freely with him, laughing, none of that short polite talk. It’s like all that hate has completely dissipated. Paul’s never thought he’d see Michiko and Teemu get along, but here they are, and it’s putting him on edge, making him nervous because he doesn’t know what brought on this sudden change.
He tries not to let it show, tries to laugh at Teemu’s stupid jokes and tries to enjoy the carefree atmosphere he’s in, but the anxiety and curiosity is clawing at him in the back of his mind, and Paul absolutely hates surprises, hates being in the dark.
Paul washes the dishes while Michiko and Teemu slack off to go pick a movie and when he’s done and heads into the living room, they’re whispering quietly to each other and Paul frowns when they notice him and stop. Teemu looks slightly guilty at having been caught but Michiko doesn’t look fazed at all.
“I thought you were picking a movie,” Paul says, annoyed.
“We are,” Michiko says swiftly. “We were just discussing what to watch.”
Paul frowns, unconvinced and goes to settle between them on the couch.
He feels off-key throughout the entire movie, and Teemu and Michiko’s constant chatter and commentary does nothing to comfort him. The entire thing feels too domestic. Now that Michiko seems to be friends with Teemu, that means Paul’s entire family gets along with Teemu. Even Paul’s mother adores Teemu, and all of it, it’s hitting too close for comfort.
Teemu’s the first to leave when the movie ends, and Paul corners him in the doorway before he steps out.
“What’s going on?” he asks, watching Teemu’s face carefully. “Did you say something to Michiko?”
Teemu’s eyes widen and his scent smells like nervousness. “What? No—sorry Paul, I have to go home, bye!” he hugs Paul briefly and dashes out the door before Paul even has the chance to say something.
He asks Michiko the same thing as she’s putting her coat on to leave, but she replies in a much cooler manner than Teemu. “Hmm nope, he didn’t say anything, have a good night Paul,” she kisses his cheek and heads out the door.
Paul sighs in frustration and tries to stay calm and shove down the anxiety bubbling up inside him. It’s okay, he tells himself, it can’t be anything bad. Besides, isn’t it good that Teemu and Michiko are getting along? He goes to bed a little miserable, and he hates that he has to purr himself to sleep.
In the end Paul couldn’t stay away from Teemu, and he was so improbably happy when they signed together with Colorado. He didn’t even care that he’d taken an 8.8 million pay cut, what mattered was that Teemu would be by his side on the ice again.
Those feelings disappeared though, when the season stated and the disappointment rooted itself deep in his gut. He hurt his ankle and his wrist twice and missed games and it was an absolute disaster. The season was an absolute disaster and Paul almost regretted his decision to sign. He’d been a fool to think they could win a Stanley Cup together, and now that he was around Teemu again, all those feelings he’d shoved inside were sprouting out again.
And when they went their separate ways after the lockout, Teemu back to Anaheim and Paul to Nashville, Paul’s heart broke just a little more.
~~~~
In the end, after stints with Nashville and St. Louis, Paul was defeated by the hands of concussions and hip surgeries and never ending pain, and not even Teemu trying to get Anaheim to sign him was enough to bring him back.
In the end, Paul left hockey quietly, angry at the league and at his head and bitter and hurt as he watched Teemu raise the cup without him.
In the end hockey was ripped violently from his hands by too many hits and too many doctors shaking their heads at him. In the end Paul was left alone, and he had nothing but the messy name on his wrist.
He hears nothing from Teemu the next day. With all quiet on the Selanne front,Paul takes opportunity to go surfing and clear his head. The water laps gently at his feet when he’s standing on the beach, kissing his toes, and Paul takes a deep breath before stepping into the water.
By the time he comes out, hair dripping and surf suit wet, he feels better, some of that anxiety from yesterday gone. But that one question keeps nagging him: what did Teemu say to Michiko that made her so friendly towards him all of a sudden?
He stops thinking about it after a while, deciding to do some house chores and finish the book he’s reading. In the evening, he’s dozing off on the couch, a book spread out on his chest, when the phone pings with the notification of a text and startles him awake. He rubs his eyes blearily and takes the book off his chest, grabbing the phone from the coffee table.
It’s a text from Teemu of course, and Paul’s eyes twitches a little as he reads it. Hey Paulie, we’re going to dinner tonight, the text says, dress nice, I’ll pick you up at 7. It’s followed by a series of smiley emojis and Paul stares at them, simultaneously annoyed and fond.
He hates when Teemu does random things like this and expects Paul to come. He thought after the skating incident that Teemu would’ve learned his lesson. But that’s Teemu, Paul thinks, he thinks a few hours’ worth of warning are enough.
And that’s why Paul loves him.
~~~~
Teemu knocks on the door at precisely seven o’clock, and when Paul opens the door, fidgeting with his tie, his mouth goes a little dry. Teemu’s dressed in dress pants that hug the muscles of his thighs and a white dress shirt that highlights the curves of his arms. Even though it’s been so long since he’s played, he’s still in shape, and the black vest he’s wearing does nothing to help the tightness in Paul’s gut.
Paul flushes in embarrassment and he had to clear his throat before he can talk without making a fool of himself and trilling. “Um, hi.”
Teemu smiles softly and his gaze travels across Paul’s body. “Looking good as always, Paulie,”
Paul swallows, licking his lips nervously and fidgets with the collar of his shirt. He blinks. “Um, let me just get my wallet and we’ll go.”
He almost sprints to the kitchen and he takes a few deep breaths, trying to will away the heat crawling over his skin. One compliment from Teemu, his alpha that wasn’t, and the omega part of him is begging for more. “It’s nothing,” Paul whispers to himself. “You used to go to dinner with him all the time, stop overthinking.”
Paul lets out a long sigh and grabs his wallet.
~~~~
The entire night feels like a dream, like Paul’s been thrown into an alternate universe that’s willing to give him everything he’s ever wanted. The restaurant Teemu takes him to is more on the fancy side, more for dates than a couple of buddies hanging out. Teemu keeps touching him, casual touches with his hand, nudging Paul’s side and softly brushing the back of his hand against the nape of Paul’s neck.
It leaves Paul frustrated because he doesn’t know what’s going on. But other than that, he enjoys the night a lot. He laughs at Teemu’s cheesy jokes and makes fun of him when orders a dish he’s never had and scrunches his face up. And then when Teemu holds out his fork for Paul to taste, Paul flushes all over, suddenly flustered as he tries to control his scent. It isn’t exactly hand feeding, and Paul’s never been a traditional omega, but the omega part of him is clearly pleased with this. And when he slides his lips over the fork, Teemu makes a choked noise and watches Paul’s lips with heated eyes, smelling like cinnamon and apples.
It makes Paul shiver, going hot all over and he has to stop himself from licking his lips. Teemu swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he takes a drink from his wine, baring his neck, muscles moving under tan skin as he swallows. It’s fucking obscene and it’s something an omega would typically do to accept an alpha’s courting and Paul has to look away before he does something stupid.
They manage to recover and even though Paul’s confused as to what the fuck just happened, the night moves on and the easy going atmosphere returns.
Teemu pays for dinner when they’re done despite Paul’s protests and then drives Paul home. He walks him up to his front door and Paul suddenly feels anxious as Teemu looks at him silently. It’s Paul who makes the first move because he hates the silence and he hugs Teemu. “Thank you, I had a good time.” He says and the trilling leaves his throat unexpectedly. He can’t help it, he’s happy, and the omega part of him is pleased with how Teemu treated him all night.
Paul feels Teemu’s lips against his head and then Teemu—Teemu completely takes him off guard. He cups the side of Paul’s neck and leans down, tucking is face into the crook off Paul’s neck.
Paul makes a half choked moaning noise, breath stuttering as Teemu runs his nose along the curve of Paul’s neck, from his jaw down to the hollow of his collarbones. Paul can’t even say anything and in the back of his mind he realizes Teemu’s scenting him.
Teemu kisses Paul’s neck, right over his pulse and lifts his head, hand cupping Paul’s face and stroking the line of his jaw. He’s smiling and his expression is soft and he smells nervous and warm and happy.
“Good night, Paulie,” he says softly and then turns around walks back to his car, leaving Paul standing on his porch, dumbfounded and pulse skyrocketing. He watches as Teemu drives off and then goes inside, slumping against the door the moment it’s closed. ??
It takes him a while to get himself together and by the time he’d under the covers in bed, he’s going crazy. He’s just so confused, unable to wrap his mind around the entire night. He doesn’t understand what Teemu’s doing. Paul’s been courted a couple of times in his life, and what Teemu did tonight is exactly what an alpha courting an omega would do. But why would Teemu be courting me? Paul thinks.
Paul sniffs and suddenly realizes that Teemu’s scent is all over him. “Fuck,” Paul groans. Teemu scented him and now that’s all Paul can think about. It’s rude actually, to scent an omega without asking for permission first, but Paul can’t bring himself to care. Having his alpha’s scent on him makes him so hot and it takes so much self-control not to reach into his boxers and touch himself.
Maybe he is courting me, Paul thinks. It’s a fleeting though and he immediately pushed it away. No, that’s impossible. Teemu’s a flirt and a joker by nature, so he’s probably messing him, nothing more. But even for Teemu, this is too much.
So to say the least, between trying to not to jerk off to Teemu’s scent and trying to figure out Teemu’s motives, Paul doesn’t get any sleep.
(The thought that keeps ringing his head, the thought he keeps trying to push out is: please don’t let Teemu be messing with me, please let it be true.)
“You have to come, Paulie, it’s my last game.” Teemu whined on the other end of the phone.
Paul sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
“Please,” Teemu said softly.
After they hung up, Paul massaged his temples, feeling a headache forming. Teemu’s been calling Paul every day for a week now, asking him to be there to watch his last game. Paul wanted to go and if he’d left hockey under different circumstances it would be easy. But the thought of entering the Ducks arena, of having all those people looking at him, the thought of watching Teemu skate in that Ducks jersey without him, made his skin crawl.
It wasn’t fair.
~~~~
“I want you to be there, even if you just come for one period.” Teemu said.
He sounded so hopeful, like if Paul came to his last game it would be the best thing ever, and Paul cracked, because how could he deny Teemu this?
“Okay,” Paul said. “I’ll come.”
~~~~
So Paul went to Teemu’ last game. Teemu’s son Leevi took Paul to his seat so Paul didn’t have to see or interact with anyone.
“You never visit anymore,” Leevi said as he led him through the arena.
Paul swallowed but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He used to visit Teemu all the time, hand out with his kids and Sirpa but after Teemu’s divorce and after Paul left hockey, he couldn’t bring himself to visit. It was hard to look at Teemu, to look at everything he had that Paul didn’t.
He sat with Joe for the game, and after a few pleasantries Paul watched the game silently. His eyes were on Teemu the entire night, watching him move with the puck. He wasn’t as good as he used to be, but to Paul he would always be the Finnish Flash. Paul flinched whenever someone got boarded and he had to close his eyes on more than one occasion. When the game ended and Teemu skated around, saluting the fans, Paul had to choke back the sad purr in his chest and blink away the tears in his eyes. Their first year together, when Paul was so unbelievably naïve, he’d dreamed of skating his last lap with Teemu, of watching their numbers rise together, side by side.
He couldn’t bring himself to stay after the game and see Teemu, so he went home and watched the interviews.
The reporters asked him about Paul’s presence at the game, and Teemu, still flushed and sweaty, said, “I didn’t take no for an answer. He has meant so much to me all my best years and the chemistry I’ve had with him.”
Paul let out a shaky breath and turned off the TV.
~~~~
Paul didn’t go to Teemu’s retirement ceremony, and whether the media wanted to believe he was on vacation with family or not was their problem, not his. He almost cried a little as he listened to Teemu’s speech and he knew he should’ve been sitting there beside Joe but he couldn’t imagine Teemu talking right in front of him, and sitting in the middle of the Honda centre with the entire stadium watching him.
When Teemu’s number was lifted up into the rafters, Paul did cry. He cried for what could have been, and what should have been, and what would have been and the future he could’ve had.
He cried for the name on his wrist and the happiness he would never truly have.
~~~
“I've been very lucky that I've been playing with unbelievable players, pretty much my whole career. But nothing has been even close to playing with Paul. Everything was so easy.” Teemu told the media. “We played the same way. We were thinking the same way about the game. It was just unbelievable. I always believe in that chemistry. We did every drill together. Even our teammates were laughing. If we had the same drill, they always said, ‘OK, you guys go first.’ We were talking after every shift, after every game to try and get better. That’s how you create magic."
When Paul heads down to the kitchen the next morning in nothing but his boxers, Teemu’s there, drinking coffee from Paul’s favourite mug and reading the newspaper and looking like he absolutely belongs there.
“Morning, Paulie,” he smiles. “Coffee?”
And Paul, Paul doesn’t understand and his patience has finally run out. “What’re you doing here?”
Teemu blinks. “What—“
“I just don’t understand,” Paul says in frustration. “Why are you always here? Why did you come back from Finland early just to spend time with me every day? And yesterday, you were acting so weird, you kept touching me and I—I just don’t understand what you’re doing.” His voice cracks, and there’s pressure behind his eyes and he’s going to cry if he doesn’t get himself together.
Teemu puts the newspaper down and says quietly, “I’m courting you Paulie, I’ve been doing it for the last week.”
Paul grips the back of the chair in front of him tightly, his stomach sinking. “What?”
Teemu sighs and pushes his chair back. He walks towards Paul but Paul steps back away from him until his back hits the sink.
“Paul,” Teemu says again. “I’m courting you.”
Paul holds the edge of the counter behind him. “But w-why?”
Teemu gently grabs Paul’s wrist and wraps his fingers around the wrist guard, making his heart leap in his chest. “Because I’m your soulmate,” Teemu says softly and he’s looking at Paul with his eyes so earnest and expressions so sincere.
“No you’re not,” Paul says brokenly. He can’t handle this. Why is Teemu messing with him? Why is he opening old wounds?
Teemu rubs a finger over Paul’s wrist. “Yes I am, you have my name and I have yours.”
Paul chokes and squeezes his eyes shut. “No you don’t, please stop messing with me Teemu, please.”
“Paulie, I know it’s hard to believe, but my name isn’t on my wrist, it’s behind my ear.”
Paul opens his eyes, breath catching in his throat. “Show me.”
And so Teemu turns around and when Paul brushes away the hair by his ear, on the patch of skin there, Paul sees his own name in the smallest writing ever.
“Oh my god,” he whispers. He doesn’t know how to feel, he just feels cold.
“See,” Teemu smiles. He turns around and takes Paul’s wrist again, fiddling with the strap of his wrist guard. “Can I?”
Paul nods numbly and the expression on Teemu’s face when he takes the wrist guard off and sees his name on Paul’s wrist is the happiest he’s ever seen him. Teemu traces the letter of his name and there are tears in his eyes when he says, “I knew it was you.”
And then Paul’s stomach sinks and any hope he had vanishes because he realizes something. “Sirpa used to cut your hair.” He says, and he can’t help the horror in his voice.
Teemu’s eyes widen and he looks at Paul helplessly. “Paul…”
“You knew,” Paul whispers in disbelief, ripping his wrist from Teemu’s grasp and holding it to his chest.
Teemu looks torn. “Paul, please.”
“You knew,” Paul says again. “You knew and you didn’t say anything.”
“No, Paul by the time I found out Sirpa and I were already engaged and I didn’t really know if it was you.”
Paul shakes his head. He isn’t listening. “No, do you know how much pain I went through? Do you know how hard it was to have you so close all the time and not do anything about it? Do you know how hard it was to watch you get married, to watch you with Sirpa and the kids? You knew, Teemu, you knew.” Paul’s voice breaks and he rubs at his eyes, breath hitching.
“Paul,” Teemu says, and his voice sounds so small. “It was hard for me too.”
“Then why?” Paul asks fiercely. “Why didn’t you say anything when you got divorced?”
“I couldn’t, there was hockey and—“
Paul laughs and it’s bitter and nasty. “There was hockey? Do you know how many years I’ve been in love with you Teemu? 19 years! Do you know how many times I’ve cried over you, how many heats I’ve gone through alone? Do you know how much pain I’ve gone through in the 20 years I’ve known you?”
Teemu looks like he’s going to cry. “Paul…”
"Just why, why now?” Paul sobs.
“I love you,” Teemu says, and Paul’s shoulders shake. “I love you and now seems like the right time. I want you Paulie, I want this.”
Paul shakes his head. “No,” his voice sounds wrecked and he’s breathing uncontrollably. “No, you can’t do this. You always do this, you plan things and expect me to follow. But I can’t. You’ve had 19 years to thinks about this. You knew your name was on my wrist and you didn’t say anything and I’ve only knows for a couple of minutes.” His voice cracks. “You can’t do this to me Teemu, it’s not fair.”
“Paul please, I’m sorry,” Teemu begs, eyes glistening and he reaches for Paul.
“No!” Paul exclaims. “Get out Teemu. Out, please.”
Teemu makes a pained noise and Paul doesn’t watch as he leaves only opening his eyes when he hears the door gently click shut.
~~~~
He spends the rest of the day feeling numb and staring at his wrist, replaying the conversation they had. He cries a lot and thinks a lot. But he still doesn’t know what to think other than the fact that Teemu’s his soulmate and he knew all along. Paul hates him for it, hates him for keeping it a secret and making Paul suffer for so long. Paul doesn’t know how to feel anymore, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now.
~~~~
He wakes up the next morning to no text messages on his phone and no Teemu in his kitchen. Paul feels slightly guilty for kicking him out yesterday but he knows he would’ve lost it if Teemu tried to explain himself one more time.
Its takes a long time for Paul to decide what to do after eating breakfast, and when he finally decides, it takes him even longer to pick up the phone and call Michiko. She picks up on the third ring and Paul has to clear his throat before he can say something. “Hey uh Michi, do you have a couple of minutes?
He hates how his voice sounds, lose and sad, and Michiko must be able to tell something’s wrong because she says, “Hold on, I’m coming over.”
The first thing she says when he opens the door and she sees him is, “What did he do?”
“He’s my soulmate,” Paul answered quietly once they’re seated in the living room.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“No,” Paul shakes his head. “It’s too late. He knew this entire time Michiko, he knew and he didn’t tell me.”
Michiko sighs. “He talked to me the other day, told me everything.”
“That’s why you were so friendly with him all of a sudden?” Paul says, feeling betrayed. “Michiko, you’ve seen firsthand what I’ve gone through.”
“Paul you have to think clearly. When he found out he was already engaged. Don’t you think it would’ve killed you more to watch him get married when you knew he was your soulmate?”
“He could’ve called off the engagement!” Paul exclaims, and even to his own ears he sounds petty.
“Come on Paul, you know better.” Michiko says gently. “He couldn’t call off the engagement with someone he’d been dating for years for someone he barely knew.”
That stung. Paul bit his lip. “Then why didn’t he tell me when they got divorced?”
“You were both still playing. Do you think you would’ve wanted that distraction? Do you think you could’ve handled the long distance between you two?”
No, Paul probably couldn’t have, he probably wouldn’t have even given Teemu a chance. “But what am I supposed to do?” he asks Michiko.
She shrugs. “I don’t know, you have to think about this and decide what’s best for you. All I can say is that he really loves you, Paul, and I think it’s about time you get what you want.”
Get what I want, Paul thinks. Teemu’s what he’s always wanted but now, now Paul doesn’t know. Having Teemu’s always been more of a concept than a realistic thing he can grasp, and now that the opportunity’s presented itself, Paul isn’t sure if he’s ready.
Michiko stays with him for the rest of the day, and they eat takeout in the living room and binge watch stupid TV shows and movies, and by the time the sun’s setting and Michiko’s heading out, he feels better. His thoughts are a little clearer and he can think rationally now.
He lies in bed that night and stares at the ceiling. What do you want? He asks himself. You’ve been alone for so long, you’ve gone through so much pain and so much loneliness. Paul held up his wrist and stared at Teemu’s name. You’re forty years old, do you want to be alone for the rest of your life? Isn’t it about time you finally get a chance to be happy?
In the end it doesn’t take long to figure out what to do and when he falls asleep, Paul dreams of Teemu’s smile the first day he met him.
~~~~
The next day, Paul takes a couple of hours to psych himself up and decide what he’s going to say, then he gets into his car and drives to Teemu’s house. There’s no answer when he knocks and when he uses his key to go in, Teemu’s house is quiet. There’s no one there and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of Paul’s stomach.
There’s a picture on Teemu’s fridge surrounded by a bunch of child’s drawings. It’s a picture of the two of them back when they played for Anaheim. They’re in the midst of a goal celebration. Teemu’s hugging him and Paul looks annoyed, but Paul remembers that moment, remembers thinking not to look too excited, remembers pretending to be annoyed with how close Teemu was. Their cellies together are probably one of the things Paul misses most about hockey.
In the picture, Teemu’s looking at him with absolute adoration.
He’s probably at Scott’s house, Paul thinks, please let him be at Scott’s house.
So Paul drives to Scott’s house, the feeling of dread in his stomach getting stronger and stronger by the minute. And when he parks his car in front of Scott’s house, Teemu’s car isn’t there.
“Is Teemu here?” Paul asks when Scott opens the door. His voice is so hopeful, but Paul knows, he knows that Teemu isn’t here.
Scott sighs and shakes his head. “He left this morning for Finland, Paul.” Scott says softly and something inside of Paul breaks. It’s not meant to be, it’s always like this and you’ll never be happy. No matter how close you get, no matter how close your fingers brush, it’ll always be like this and you’ll never get what you want.
“What do I do?” Paul says.
And Scott nudges Paul’s shoulders and says, “There’s probably another flight for Finland later today.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. But to Paul it’s not. He’s never been good at making decisions like this, of thinking on the spot, and the thought of taking a flight to Finland and finding Teemu scares the crap out of him.
“It’s simple, Paul.” Scott says. “How badly do you want this?”
How badly do I want this? I’ve been in love with him for 19 years. Paul knows that if this were the other way around, Teemu would’ve booked a ticket for the flight in an instant.
So Paul, who’s never been brash or spontaneous, packs a couple of days’ worth of clothing and heads to the airport.
~~~~
One time, after Teemu had broken Paul’s heart and gotten married, Paul took a flight to Finland. He had thought that maybe he could find his Teemu there. The moment he’d stepped into Finland, the moment one of the airport staff asked if he needed help, the moment saw that the man’s nametag red ‘Teemu’, he’d felt sick. He never left the airport that day, just took the next flight home.
~~~~
It’s sunny when Paul steps out of the Helsinki airport and it takes him a minute as he stands completely lost to realize that he doesn’t know what to do now. He doesn’t know where Teemu lives and Paul doesn’t want to call him because he doesn’t want to talk to him on the phone. So he calls, Eemil, Teemu’s oldest son. He has no other choice.
“Paul?” Eemil sounds confused when he picks up.
“Yeah it’s me, hi Eemil. I’m at the Helsinki airport.”
“What?”
“I’m at the Helsinki airport, can you come pick me up?”
“Why isn’t dad—okay hold on, I’ll be there in thirty.”
Paul sighs and prepares himself for the onslaught of questions he’s going to receive.
~~~~
Eemil’s quiet for the first few seconds after he picks Paul up, and then just as they’re merging into the highway, he says, “Dad got here this morning, he won’t talk to anyone, what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Paul says and thankfully Eemil doesn’t push.
Paul rests his face against the car window and watches as the cars speed by. It’s two pm here in Finland and it’s way too sunny and he’s so jetlagged but he can’t bring himself to fall asleep. He’s too busy thinking about what he’s going to say to Teemu when he sees him.
~~~~
Teemu owns a summer home in Kirkkonummi. It’s a small town, beautiful and quiet and picturesque and Paul’s immediately in love with it. Teemu’s house, as expected, is large and when Eemil parks the car in the driveway, Paul suddenly feels queasy. He can’t do this.
“He’s not here,” Eemil says. “Come on, let’s get you settled in. Mom’s here.”
Paul isn’t surprised Sirpa’s here. She and Teemu are still both the legal guardians of the kids, both of them have joint custody. Paul had asked Teemu why he and Sirpa still lived together, and Teemu had replied that it was what was best for the kids and that Sirpa was still his best friend.
Eemil leads him into the kitchen when they enter the house, and Sirpa immediately stands up when she sees them. “Paul!”
Paul drops his bag to hug her. “Hi, Sirpa, how are you?”
“I’m good, Paul,” she holds him by his shoulders and looks him over with a frown on her lips. “Come on, you look exhausted. Let me take you up to the guestroom.”
She takes his bag for him despite his protests and he follows her up the stairs. No matter how jealous he can be sometimes of her and the things she has that he couldn’t, Paul loves here. She’s a headstrong, kind woman who’s never been anything less than welcoming to him.
She helps him settle into the guestroom and after he thanks here she says, “You take a nap okay? We’ll talk later.”
She knows, of course, she must know because she’s always been perceptive, has probably known Paul loves Teemu since she met him. It’s not difficult for him to fall asleep, the jetlag’s killing him. He only manages to sleep for a couple of hours, because he wakes up to Teemu’s youngest, Veera, bouncing on his bed.
“Hi Veera,” Paul mumbles sleepily, smiling at her. Teemu’s daughter is just like him, a complete ray of sunshine.
“Hi Paulie!” she stretches out the end of his name, and finally settles on her knees by his side. “Äiti says you have to wake up now so you can sleep later at night.”
Paul sits up and kisses the top of her hand in a curtsy fashion. “Okay princess Veera, thank you for waking me up.”
Veera giggles and slides off the bed. “Okay you have to get up now, äiti made you lunch.”
Paul sits on a stool by the kitchen island when he goes downstairs, and Sirpa smiles at him and puts a plate of food in front of him. It’s his favourite, chicken pasta, comfort food. Sirpa’s just too good.
“Where are the kids?” Paul asks her as she settles in the seat in front of him.
“The boys went down to the rink for a pickup game, and Veera’s watching cartoons in the living room.”
“And Teemu?” Paul asks hesitantly.
“He’s at the lake, probably fishing.” Sirpa says, then pauses. “He came this morning and won’t talk to anyone, so I’m guessing he told you.”
Paul nods and chews his food silently. He doesn’t know what to say to Sirpa, who’s known that Teemu has Paul’s name this entire time. He doesn’t know the proper etiquette for talking to your soulmate’s ex-wife.
“And I’m guessing from the way he abruptly came back here that you didn’t take it well.”
Paul stares down at his food and doesn’t say anything. How is he supposed to explain to her how hard it was for him to find out that Teemu was his soulmate after 19 years of heartbreak and sorrow?
Sirpa sighs and when she finally talks, her voice is sad. “We were both young when we found out and it was completely by accident. We thought that Teemu was nameless, like me, but one day I was cutting his hair and there it was, your name, in the tiniest writing and almost impossible to see if you’re not looking for it. Teemu didn’t know whether your wrist had his name, he had his suspicious but he wasn’t sure and we were already engaged. Our families were expecting us to get married. If we broke it off it would’ve been suspicious, and besides we were in love.”
Paul frowns at his plate, and moves the pasta around with his fork. “I don’t need excuses, Sirpa.” He says quietly.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that it was good that Teemu waited. Now is the right time. You’re both free and away from the hockey spotlight and Paul, Teemu loves you.”
Paul glances up at here. “How can you say that so easily? You were married to him.”
She shrugs. “He’s my best friend, but I haven’t been in love with him for years. He hasn’t been happy since we got divorced and I think it’s time you both got what you wanted.”
“What about you? And the kids?”
“What about us?” Sirpa smiles in amusement. “You’re not planning on stealing him and taking off to Antarctica, are you?”
Paul smiles at that and shakes his head. “No, it just, I feel guilty.”
“Paul I think you need to decide if you’re ready for this. Because if you and Teemu get together, you’re going to be an active part of this family. That means helping with the kids and being around. It’s a responsibility.
Paul hasn’t thought of that. But now that he is, it doesn’t seem like a problem or something he’d be opposed to. He loves Teemu’s kids and when he imagines himself hanging around the Selanne house, he feels happy.
“I am ready,” he tells Sirpa, and he is. After 19 years of yearning, he finally gets to have this.
Sirpa grins. “Well you have to tell Teemu that.”
~~~~
The lake’s within walking distance, and Paul follows Sirpa’s instructions to get here. It’s the evening and the sun’s setting when he gets there. Teemu’s sitting on the very edge of the dock, legs dangling off, and hidden by the trees. Paul’s heart races when he sees him and he takes a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself and settle the butterflies in his stomach.
The boards creaks when he steps on them, and Teemu looks up, startled. Several emotions filter across his face, surprise, hope, joy and then finally a frown and he looks away and goes back to staring at the lake.
Paul sighs and goes to sit beside him. It takes him a few seconds to gain the courage he needs, but he finally rests his hand on top of Teemu’s, the nervousness he’s feeling at an all-time high.
Teemu turns his head and looks from their joined hands to Paul’s face with something bordering on confusion and hope. “Paul?”
Paul clears his throat and licks his lips nervously. “I—um yes,” he says, squeezing Teemu’s fingers tightly. “I want this.”
Teemu’s eyes search his face frantically. “Are you sure? Paul, are you really sure? I don’t want to push you. You can take your time, you don’t have to decide now—“
“Teemu, I flew to Finland for you,” Paul laughs, and then shyly says, “I’ve been waiting for 19 years, I think I want this now.”
Teemu smiles and Paul doesn’t think he’s seen him this happy before. “Can I—“ Teemu cups Paul’s jaw with his free hand and leans in. “Paulie, can I—“
Paul nods and tilts his head. He can feel Teemu’s heartbeat racing in his palm and his own heart is going crazy, and when Teemu finally brushes his lips against Paul, Paul feels like he’s at the All-Star game and seeing Teemu for the first time again. It’s clumsy and their noses bump awkwardly but just the feel of Teemu against him, just the knowledge that this is finally happening and he’s not dreaming, is enough to make Paul lightheaded and out of breath.
They stay like that, foreheads pressed against each other and breathing each other’s air, and Teemu’s breath is hot against Paul’s lips, and the scent he’s giving off, crisp and sweet, reminds Paul of mornings made of pancakes and maple syrup and hot green tea.
“I love you,” Teemu mumbles against his lips.
Paul squeezes his eyes shut as he feels himself start to tear up. He never thought he’d hear those words directed at him in this context. He doesn’t know how say the words back, they’re lodged in his throat. What he feels for Teemu is just…just so much, and Paul’s never been a man of many words so just squeezes Teemu’s wrist and kisses him again, hot tears running down his cheeks.
Teemu rubs away the tears with his thumb and Paul just feels so emotional, and then the moment’s ruined when Teemu leans too much into the kiss and Paul slips off the deck, dragging Teemu down with him into the water.
The water’s cold, and Paul swears, wiping away the water from his eyes, laughing when he sees Teemu, whose long hair is plastered all over his face.
Paul swims towards him and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, tracing his finger over the small bump where his name is. “You need to get a haircut.”
Teemu shivers against him and smiles. “Maybe.”
They float there, staring at each other for a while until Paul says, “We’re going to catch a cold, we should head back.”
Teemu nods, and when they walk back to the house, dripping wet and leaving a trail of water behind them on the pavement, Teemu holds his hand the entire time and doesn’t let go. Paul’s initial instinct is to pull away, but there’s no one here but the townspeople and no one’s paying attention to them, and Paul thinks it’s about time he gets to have this.
So he squeezes Teemu’s hand and steps closer to him.
~~~~
Sirpa shoos them off to get dry when she sees them, giving them both a kiss on the cheek and an enormous smile. They dry off together and when Teemu’s changing his clothes, Paul realizes that he can look now, that this is really happening. When they fall into bed, facing each other, Teemu keeps staring at Paul with an expression of pure contentment, and Paul, who as a hockey player should be used to people looking at him all the time, feels himself blush.
“What’re you looking at?” he mumbles.
“I’m happy,” Teemu says. “I’ve imagined this so many times.”
Paul traces his fingers behind Teemu’s ear. “I’m so glad.”
“Rakastan sinua,” Teemu whispers and kisses him, and Paul smiles and trills happily against his lips.
~~~~
Paul’s the last one to wake up the next morning and when he heads down the kitchen, it’s nothing like his quiet mornings at home. The house is loud and chaotic, and there’s a flurry of words in English and Finnish. A couple of the boys are sitting at the table and someone’s looking through the cupboards and leaving them open, and Sirpa’s frying eggs and Veera’s helping set up the table while Eemil teases his younger brother. The teapot’s whistling on the stove and there’s Teemu, leaning against one of the counters in a ratty Anaheim t-shirt and staring at the coffee machine grumpily.
Paul doesn’t want to be anywhere else. He knows it’s not going to be easy. There are going to be problems and heats and bonds and the media to deal with if they ever catch on. But there’ll also be dropping the kids off at school and helping with homework and hockey and learning Finnish. And there’ll be mornings like this, where he’s so happy and watching Teemu mutter under his breath as he spills coffee on the counters and Sirpa frowns at him and—
“Good morning, Paul!” Veera smiles at him and she’s followed by a chorus of good mornings. Teemu smiles at him fondly, coffee long forgotten as he kisses him chastely on the mouth, and the kids make noises of mock disgust and Sirpa chuckles almost burning the eggs.
And Paul—Paul thinks, feeling warm all over, this is my family now, and he’s never felt happier.
“I think time heals,” – Teemu Selanne on Paul Kariya