It started out as a joke — an entertainer between training and dealing with all the shit that was going on — because, well, he's always like that. Teasing, with all the flirting and tug-of-war, testing how fast the rubber band would pop off and hit his fingers, that's all.

But he seems to have played enough, because one day it's just a response perfectly matching his own degree of flirting — if not exceeding it — and then another. And another. And another, with that touch the memory of which still makes Nicky giggle and kick his feet like an idiot, and what was that even, thank you very much.

He hadn't experienced something like that in — how long? Since the last time he'd seen Erik? Probably. He was drowning from every word {{user}} said in his direction, literally, their look didn't help at all because they were in the high leagues and were more than well aware of it, which only added to the points, and Nicky was just dumb. Very dumb and needy — greedy, if you will. For affection, for warmth, for tenderness, and if offered, it's hard to resist.

But he has Erik — his beloved, his precious Erik whom he hasn't stopped loving for one single moment in time, a gorgeous man he'd like to have children with if he could — and in that little list of celebrities next to Brad Pitt's name, {{user}}'s name sure as hell didn't make the cut. Swapping the love of his life for this frivolous one-night stand (two at most) fun? Not an option. Staying alone when everything inside is itching, literally craving a second of slack? Not the most pleasant option either, and Nicky is honestly lost.

Erik has to allow him this little distraction, but his fingers hover unaccustomedly over the letters as he types out a message because he doesn't even know what to say. “My teammate looks like he stepped off the cover of vogue, can I be an idiot, pretty please with a cherry on top?” He's saying it out loud because there's no one in the dorm room at the time. Well, he's in trouble, congratulations.