Well guys, I'm back with a brand new fic! It's been a while, but hopefully you all like this one. Just a heads up, I sent this to my beta, but then I quickly beta'd it myself instead of waiting for her. So spelling errors and all that are entirely my own. I know this chapter is pretty long, they aren't all going to be this long, but I've tried to keep them on the lenghty side for the most part. I'm aiming for updates every few days this time around, instead of every single day like with SWTC. Can you believe it's been a full year since then? Crazy. Anyways, I'm also going to be posting this over on scarves and coffee soon.

And a huge thank you to everyone who helped me while I wrote this. Especially my good buddy Emily who came up with the title.

OH. Quick note. I know not everyone likes hockey, and the fic itself is only loosely based around hockey. You don't need to be a fan, or have ever seen a hockey game to understand it. I went light on the hockey, heavy on the Klaine. (Get it? like spices!)

The regular disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor do I own Glee or have any ties with Fox or anything like that. I just like writing about these two goofs named Kurt and Blaine.

Reviews are always welcome!

"Mr. Anderson, how does it feel knowing that come draft time for the NHL, you could be one of the first names called?"

"It's an amazing feeling. I never thought I'd ever have the chance to be playing hockey professionally."

The reporter nodded. "Thanks for stopping to talk to us, and we can't wait to see you on the big day."

Blaine shook his head before smiling again for the cameras and getting in the back of the SUV. He closed the door and immediately laid his head back, sighing.

"Cheer up, Blainers."

Blaine's eyes flew open and he saw his best friend from the team, Sam Evans, sitting beside him. He hadn't even noticed him in the car.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Sam laughed. "I've told you before, never question my appearing abilities. Now stop pouting. I'm taking you to a club."

Blaine opened his mouth to complain but knew any argument would go completely ignored. He loved that about Sam. He always knew exactly what Blaine needed without Blaine having to say a word. At least that's how this whole mess had started.

Blaine had only been on the team for 3 months, and in that time he'd found out more about himself than he ever thought possible. The night of his first goal, the whole team had taken him out for a drink. Most of the guys were getting up there in age and had families of their own to get home to, but not Sam and Blaine. They were single, and apparently very horny. After striking out a few hundred times, they somehow ended up making out at Blaine's apartment.

They had been hooking up in secret ever since. No sense in making the other guys on the team uncomfortable.

They arrived at the club and Sam pulled Blaine inside. While Blaine waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, Sam continued pulling him to the VIP room. As his eyes adjusted, he started to recognize this place. It was a really low key club they came to sometimes after games. The guys that worked in the VIP room were really quiet and let them have the room to themselves most nights.

Sam pulled Blaine over to the couch and ordered their regular drinks. Blaine relaxed into the couch, his hand resting on Sam's thigh. After their drinks were brought over, Sam boldly took Blaine's hand and put it on the prominent bulge in his pants.

Blaine looked up from his drink and right into Sam's lustfull eyes. He finished the rest of his drink before leaning over to kiss Sam's open mouth. He slipped his tongue inside and started moving his hand over the bulge.

Sam moaned into Blaine's mouth at the touch before firmly grabbing Blaine's ass with both his hands and lifting him easily off the seat and into his lap. The drinks kept coming, and they kept making out, and the next think Blaine knew he was waking up in Sam's bed, completely naked.

He glanced over and saw Sam laying on his stomach next to him, also completely naked. He sighed. They must have ended up here after the bar. He sat up slowly and flinched at the pain radiating from his ass. He must have bottomed last night.

He glanced around the room, looking for his clothes and ended up following a line of clothing out to the front door. By the time he got there, he was a little worried. He'd only managed to find one sock, his belt, boxers and undershirt. Where the fuck were his pants? He saw something sticking out from under the door and pulled it open, only to discover that someone had piled him and Sam's clothes up in front of the door. What the fuck did they do last night?

Luckily, he'd woken up at Sam's before and actually knew where most of the stuff to make coffee were. He started quietly throwing the machine together and waiting. He pulled on his pants and immediately fished his phone out of his pocket to check his schedule for the day and his messages. It was set to be an easy day. Working out all morning, which could easily be skipped, and an afternoon full of draft talks. His stomach flipped at the thought. His entire life was going to change today.

He flicked through his calender quickly before checking his messages. ...Surely that wasn't right. There's no way he'd have 32 messages after one night. That's ridiculous. He started listening to the messages.

The first 5 were from various guys on the team with him and Sam, wishing him luck at the draft. A few from the local news asking for a post-draft interview. And the rest from his assistant. He rolled his eye and played the first one.

"Blaine, where the fuck are you?"

Uh oh, she sounded pissed.

"Blaine Anderson if you don't answer this fucking phone right now I'm going to pluck your eyebrows."

His hand drifted up to his eyebrows. She wouldn't dare.

The rest of the messages were all similar. Threats to his body, threats to his car, she got really creative and threatened to quit. He still wasn't sure if that was a threat or a prize.

He fixed his cup of coffee before sitting down in Sam's office and dialing her number.

"Blaine, what the fuck have you done?"

"Well good morning to you too. Geez, if I wanted to be greeted like that I could have stayed at home."

She sighed from the other side of the phone. "How drunk were you last night?"

He shrugged. "Enough to not remember much beyond going to a club with Sam."

"What I want to know is why you didn't tell us. I think you know Brit Brit and I would support you 100% and I could have spun this so it was a good thing."

"Santana, it's early, I'm drunk and sore. Could you please just tell me what the fuck is going on?"

She sighed sadly from the other side of the phone. "You screwed up last night. A reporter spotted you in the club last night and somehow got into the VIP room and was trying to interview you, but instead found you shoving your tongue down Sam's throat. Well done by the way, Trouty Mouth is one fine piece of ass. Anyways, he was shocked but kept trying to get the interview, so you told him to fuck off and leave you alone with your, and I quote, "pretty man penis" So he called up some reporter friends and they followed you and Sam out of the club and across town to Sam's apartment."

Blaine sighed. "Fuck."

"Oh, it gets worse. When they followed you upstairs, you decided it was a good idea to strip all your clothes off and throw them. At the reporters. And then beg Sam to fuck you right there in the hallway, and then offered all of them a piece of your, and I quote again, "fine, penis loving, cockslutting ass" I don't know what "cockslutting" is, but you seem to think you're pretty good at it. Anyways, so the reporters eventually left you alone. I'm guessing you went inside and had Sam fuck you stupid while they sent the story, pictures and videos all over the country."

"No."

Santana nodded. "Yeah. I've had calls all morning. It isn't looking very good for this afternoon."

Blaine sighed. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. He had to be having some kind of nightmare.

"It gets worse."

Blaine shook his head. "It can't actually get any worse, can it?"

"Your coach called. He's going to drop you off the team."

Blaine went silent. That was pretty much rock bottom. As far as he knew, no one had ever been drafted without being on an actual team. At best right now, he'd get picked up by another team and hopefully get drafted in a few years.

Santana spoke up after a while. "I'm really sorry about all this. But on the upside, at least you got some last night."

Blaine laughed. "Thanks. I'm gonna let you go. We're still on for later, right?"

"Of course. HEY! I don't have to pretend to wanna fuck your brains out anymore. God, tonight is going to be SO much fun."

Blaine shook his head. "BYE"

He hung up and looked around the apartment. He could wait for Sam to wake up, share an awkward encounter and then leave. Or he could grab his stuff and just leave.

And then his phone rang.

Blaine practically ripped the door off its hinges when Santana knocked several hours later. After his phone call earlier, he'd decided not to tell her anything.

"Blaine, I've told you a million times. You look like a highly drugged puppy when you let yourself get overexcited."

Blaine let her in, closing the door behind her and following her into his living room. She'd sat herself down on the couch and was checking her phone.

"Are you gonna ask?"

Santana shook her head without looking up from her phone. "Blaine, I don't care how far you shot it this time. There is nothing impressive about you jerking off."

Blaine shook his head and scrunched up his face in disgust. "Ew, no. Another team picked me up."

Santana looked up from her phone. "Wait, which team?"

Blaine shrugged. "The...Bulldogs? Is that a team?"

She shook her head. "No, no Bulldogs. There are Buffalos?"

Blaine shook his head and thought about it for a few minutes. "THE WARTHOGS! That's it!"

She stared at him. "You're joking."

He looked at her, confused. "No, I-"

She interrupted him by laughing. "Oh, you really had me going for a second there. The Warthogs. Well done, Blainers. What team is it really? Is there a team or was that part of the joke?"

"San, I'm serious. Their GM called me earlier and offered me a spot on their team. I won't be making as much money, but at least I'll have a job."

She looked at him for a few minutes. "Blaine, I know you're having a hard day but there's no reason to do this."

"Do WHAT? San, I don't know if you understand. I have nothing. No one wants me on their team right now."

"B, if you accept a place on their team, your career is over. I'm serious. No one from their team ever makes it. It is basically a bunch of washed up old men. It's like the small apartment elderly people get before finally heading for the old age home."

Blaine shrugged. "It's either this or I find myself a new career. The GM is offering me money to play on his team, that's honestly all I was hoping for."

Santana nodded. "Well, consider tonight my last night as your employee."

"What?"

"First of all, whatever they're offering to pay you won't cover mine and Britt's paycheques, I'm not moving to Ohio, and this is by far your worst idea ever."

"San, don't be like that. Come on, I can certainly cover your salaries for a while just with my savings. And anything beyond that I'll deal with."

She shrugged. "I'm not moving to Ohio to be the assistant to a guy who isn't going to have a single event to go to! I'm staying here with my friends, and my family and I'll find the next "up and comer" and be HIS assistant. Now go put on your suit so we can get this damn event over with. And just remember not to tell anyone about the new team. Not yet, I'll handle that tomorrow."

An hour later they were stepping out of the limo, arms linked, and walking towards the entrance. Santana was wearing a floor length red dress which accented her assets in a dangerous way. And then there was Blaine in some suit Santana had picked. He really hoped no one asked, because he had no idea.

They got inside fairly quickly, away from all the reporters with their questions. Blaine was still on edge. He was meeting the top player for the Warthogs at the event, and he would be making the final decision about the team. He didn't get that. Teams weren't like that. If the GM said you were on the team, you were on the fucking team.

Blaine and Santana had been to just over 20 events like these, and had a fairly well thought out plan. Blaine would get the previously agreed upon drinks while Santana found their table, then they'd meet up, start drinking and make the rounds before people got too trashed. Tonight would be different. They were going to fly under the radar and hope for the best.

Blaine headed off towards the bar, spotting Sam in the meanwhile. Sam looked at him and then looked away just as fast. So clearly he wasn't over the whole leaving without saying goodbye thing. Blaine sighed, grabbed his and Santana's drinks and headed over to where Sam was.

"Hey."

Sam glanced up from his phone. "Hi."

"So, we kind of fucked things up last night..."

Sam nodded. "Is that why you left this morning?"

Blaine nodded. "I had to get home, start doing some damage control."

They were both silent for a few minutes before Blaine spoke again.

"Coach kicked me off the team."

Sam nodded. "I know. He told me. He told me to choose. You, or the team."

Blaine nodded slowly. It made sense. Sam's career wasn't really going anywhere, not like Blaine's was. He'd known how homophobic the coach was when he started playing for them, which is another reason they didn't tell anyone. Now he was just keeping Sam to be an ass and torture him, seeing as he had no where to go.

At least Blaine was a good player and stood a chance at getting on another team.

Sam sighed. "I chose the team, Blaine."

"Good."

"What?"

Blaine smiled. "I'm glad you chose the team, Sam. There's no use throwing your life away for a couple of hook ups. I'm not going to be in town very much longer, anyways."

"You're leaving?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. I found another team that will take me. But they're based in Ohio."

"...you don't mean the Warthogs, do you?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Santana says they don't have a great team, but at least I'll still be playing. I can play there for a few years and hopefully try to get drafted again."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, good luck with that. And good luck tonight, I'm sure someone'll still take you."

Blaine smiled. "I don't see that happening, but thanks." He spotted Santana from across the room looking for him. "Well, I should get back to my table. See you around."

He half expected Sam to stop him. Maybe say something in that crazy blue person language he loved so much, but Sam didn't say anything. He just let him walk away.

Blaine didn't get drafted, he honestly didn't think that he would. Other than Santana, Sam and some guy named Mike Chang, no one had said more than two words to him. He was being ignored by the entire league. Well, not the whole league, just everyone who was a good enough hockey player to be considered for the big leagues.

He was feeling pretty down on himself after the draft, so Santana called Brittany over and they stayed up late watching movies, eating junk and bashing other players in the league. They were pretty drunk by the time they got to their new favourite game, "Wow that's hard!" Which basically entailed Brittany and Santana guessing the penis sizes of hockey players Blaine had seen naked. Some surprising sizes according to Santana.

The next morning, Blaine was the first one up. He had ended up sleeping on the floor, and Santana and Brittany were laying together on the couch. He got up and headed straight for his room. He'd gotten some boxes out of the closet from when he moved in, and started filling them with his stuff. Before he knew it, most of the room was packed up and Brittany was standing in the door with two cups of coffee.

"What are you doing?"

His head snapped up and he smiled. "Hey. I'm packing stuff up."

"But why? Are you moving?"

Blaine nodded and took the cup from her. He moved to sit on the bed and motioned for her to join him. In some ways he felt like her dad, especially since she wasn't very bright. He just felt the need to look out for her.

"Britt, I'm moving. Far away, and you and San are staying here."

"Isn't it going to be hard to work for you if you live far away?"

Blaine nodded. "That's why you and San are going to find new jobs. She'll explain it a bit more once I'm gone, I just want you to know that if it were up to me, I'd stay here with you two forever."

Brittany smiled. "I know, just make sure you keep in touch with us when you leave. Where are you going, anyways?"

"Ohio. I'm going to play for a different team there."

"San says that we play for a different team, do you play for that team too?"

Blaine nodded. "Yup. But I'm talking about hockey teams."

"Oh."

She was quiet for a while, but eventually broke the silence again. "So when are you leaving?"

"Well, I have a plane ticket for a flight tonight, getting there tomorrow morning. Then I'm gonna meet with the team and sign all the papers and arrange to have my stuff flown out there once I find an apartment."

Blaine hadn't noticed Santana in the doorway. "We'll take care of the packing tomorrow. Today we're gonna have fun."

And they did. They all got changed and went out for breakfast, then out to their favourite stores, and they picked out some new clothes for Blaine to wear for practices and so on. Then they grabbed a quick lunch and ran back to get Blaine's bag packed with just enough to last him a few weeks. And finally, they drove him to the airport.

They stayed with him up until the gate, at which point Blaine grabbed both of them and squeezed as hard as he could.

"I honestly don't know what I would have done without you two."

Santana laughed. "I don't know either. We practically taught you how to take care of yourself. And don't forget any of it."

Brittany nodded. "And when the machines in your new house are confusing, call San. She understands them all somehow."

Blaine smiled. "I promise. I'll probably be back the second I get some time off."

Santana nodded. "Well, you know we expect you for Christmas, but I fully expect you to have a crazy good team by then and be living here with us anyways."

"Boarding flight 846 to Columbus, Ohio."

Blaine smiled. "That's me."

They let him go and each kissed one of his cheeks. "Call us the second you land."

They eventually let him get on the plane, and he settled in to his seat. It wasn't a long flight, but somehow he felt like it would feel like an eternity.