I was wondering if you could write some Snowy x Dex?
well this is the rarest of pairs isn’t it, anon? violets for you. Ok let’s do PT! Dex and “I don’t want to get better.”
Dex pats him on the back after their session. Snowy rolls his eyes. He’s seen Dex with all his other patients. He’s typically neutral at best.
“Good job today,” Dex says. “You’re making really good progress.”
“Yeah.” He snorts. “Sure I am.”
Dex grimaces. “Well you’re showing a lot of improvement and maybe—”
“Don’t say it,” Snowy interrupts.
Dex scowls. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“Maybe I can get back into playing shape?” he replies.
Dex huffs. “I was going to say maybe we can get you doing some light exercise by the end of pre-season.”
“Oh,” he says.
Dex looks at him for a moment. Then he glances at his clipboard while he asks, “do you really want to not get better?”
“You’re one of my best patients. You’re recovering in record time. But every, excuse me, fucking time someone talks about your progress, you snap shut.”
Snowy considers this for a moment, chewing on his lip as he stares at the surgery scar on his knee. Part of him wants to just say it, I don’t want to get better.
“Why?” Dex asks.
Snowy freezes, realizing he was thinking out loud. He sags, scratching the back of his neck. “Most guys retire around 30, maybe 32. I’m fucking 34. People keep talking like I still have another eight years left in me. What if I don’t?”
Dex sighs. “Look, fuck them, ok? It’s not about your career. It’s about your health. Retire because you’re a two time Cup winner and you’ve had a good run. Don’t fuck your future self over because your present self doesn’t want to admit the truth.”
Snowy crinkles his nose, glaring at Dex warily. “Which is?”
“Hockey doesn’t make you happy anymore.” Dex shrugs simply. “It’s time to move on.”
Snowy nods. Deep down, he knew this before the injury. Before he conveniently (stupidly) got in a motorcycle accident. But goalies are valuable. Goalies are the heart of the team, right? He couldn’t just bail on the Falcs. Some things were shitty and difficult and had no clear cut answer. But at least for two hours every day, he didn’t have to think. He could just do his PT and chirp a hot ginger until his face is as red as his hair.
“You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone I pay to make my life simpler,” Snowy chirps.
“You pay me to help you walk,” Dex grumbles. “The rest is just my bedside manner.”
“I can only imagine what you’re like with the girls you take home.“
Dex blushes. “That would imply I take girls home.”
“Huh,” he says quietly.
“You got a problem with that?” Dex snaps.
He smirks triumphantly. “No, just wondering when does it stop being inappropriate to hit on my physical therapist.”
“Never,” Dex raises his eyebrows poignantly. “But I’m off the clock in about thirty seconds. Maybe you should ask that guy if he wants to grab coffee.”
“Alright.” Snowy checks his wrist watch, waiting for the long hand to pass the 12. When it does he looks up. “Hey gorgeous, wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”
“Pass,” Dex says. Before Snowy has time to protest, he adds, “but I’ve got some leftover baklava my friend made and three seasons of Cheers on DVD back at my place. What do you say?”
Somethings in life are shitty and difficult. However, Dex’s smile wasn’t one of them.