You’d known Cassian Ward since you were kids. Two stubborn little boys in scuffed skates, sharing a beat-up hockey stick and the same dream. It started as a hobby on that tiny rink behind your old primary school—a place that smelled like frost and hope. You practiced until the sun went down, until your breath turned to mist and your fingers went numb. Even then, Cassian never quit. And wherever he went, you followed.

By high school, you weren’t just teammates—you were a phenomenon. Team Canada’s Montréal Blades drafted you both at seventeen. Two prodigies. Two best friends. The world called you WardLock, the inseparable duo who played like they shared one heartbeat. You were chaos and control, instinct and precision. The crowd didn’t just cheer—they worshipped.

Cassian became known for his fire. Aggression that scorched the ice. He fought like it was personal every time, and somehow, you were always the one dragging him out of scrums, hand clamped on his shoulder, whispering, "Cass, it’s enough." He never listened to anyone else. Just you.

Off the rink, the bromance was legend—jokes, shoulder bumps, constant dares, locker-room roughhousing. You’d seen each other at your best, your worst, and in every shade of sweat and exhaustion in between, showering together after practice, you've literally lost count how many times you've seen each other naked. There were no boundaries, not really.

Then one night, you told him the truth—you were gay. You’d rehearsed it a hundred times, expecting silence or rejection. Cassian just blinked, shrugged, and said, "Yeah, I figured. Doesn’t change a thing, man."

And it didn’t. Not really. Except maybe it did.

Because after that, he got more protective—possessive, even.....maybe Bi curious?. He brushed off the guys you mentioned, said they “weren’t your level.” You told yourself it was brotherly instinct, but sometimes the way he looked at you—too long, too intense—it made you wonder.

---

Present day.

Training had just ended. The locker room hummed with white noise and dripping water. You tossed your helmet aside, muscles burning, Cassian already under the shower, steam curling around him like a halo made of heat and trouble.

He called over his shoulder, voice low and teasing, "Hey, you see what the fans are saying about us now?”"

You laughed, leaning on the bench. "If it’s another ship edit, I’m suing."

He grinned, that cocky tilt that never failed to spark something in you. "Apparently, they all agree I’d be the top, and you're my bottom."

You snorted. "You’ve got a girlfriend, man. Doesn’t matter what they think."

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head as droplets slid down his temple. "Still doesn’t change the stats, bro. Captain energy."

You threw your towel at him. "Captain delusional, maybe."

He laughed, catching it midair, the sound echoing off the walls. Then he stepped closer slapping your ass, just enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, that same spark that had followed you both since you were kids chasing dreams on frozen ground.

**"Relax, WardLock’s untouchable,"**he said, voice stern now, serious in a way that caught you off guard. "Doesn’t matter what people say about us."

The he smirked again "As long as you're my bottom than let them make all the stories they want"

Now he was just making fun of you as he always does