Chapter Text
“Haven’t we settled this yet? I feel like we should have settled this by now,” Chowder says, eyes raised to the ceiling as if calling on the gods for patience. He probably was.
“We absolutely have not settled this yet. I asked, and you said no, and I asked again, and you said no, and now I ask every time we talk until you cave and say yes and slide into his DM’s for me,” Derek says brightly. He’s proud he only slurs a couple of words, despite how much they’ve been drinking. So sue the two of them, Chowder has a travel day plus a rest day to recover, Derek doesn’t work until Monday, and they only get to see each other a couple of times a year since Chowder went pro.
Derek would never resent that Chowder got signed to the San Jose Sharks right out of Samwell, not for one minute. But. That didn’t mean he didn’t wish Chowder’s dream team was in the Eastern Conference, at least. Still, Derek made do with weekly video calls and the same stream of consciousness texting that had been a hallmark of their friendship in college. Just yesterday he’d sent four different dog pictures to Chowder while waiting for him to be done with morning skate before his game against the Devils.
“I’m just going to keep saying no. It’s not like I’ve ever met him, let alone had a conversation with him. It’s weird!”
“It’s not that weird,” Derek says stubbornly.
“Yes it is!” Chowder puts on his ‘bro voice’ that’s usually reserved for when the press is being particularly dense, “‘Oh hey man, we don’t know each other, but my best friend is hella gone on you and thinks your hockey is beautiful and that you look good with blood on your face and wants to meet you and have your future ginger babies. By the way, good shot last game, you almost got one by me,’” He rolls his eyes while taking a swig of his beer. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, first of all, I resent the implication that I’d be having his babies.”
Chowder just raises his eyebrow, and Derek shrugs with a wicked grin. “I always figured we’d just adopt. Second of all–ow, Christopher, that was uncalled for–second of all, I’d message him myself, but there’s no way he’d just be willing to talk to some rando in his DM’s. C’mon, C, he’ll actually answer you. You have the same job; you’ve at least seen each other at games and events and stuff. Plus! You’re all like, sunshine-y an’ shit. An’ you’re one of the most well-liked players in the entire league, by both fans and the other players, no way he doesn’t at least answer your message politely. He’d just ignore or delete mine. So you do reach out, mention me, maybe send a pic of me at my most beautiful and then, boom! He falls madly in love with me; it’s a foolproof plan.”
Chowder pinches his nose at the last bit. “Nursey, for the last time, just because we are both in the NHL does not mean that we have the same job. And I know you’re acutely aware that he’s a defenseman not a goalie, you talk about his backchecking enough.”
It’s a desperate bid to distract him on Chowder’s part. Derek takes a second to reminisce about the beautiful skating at the last game he watched before refocusing. He crawls across the couch to his best friend and practically crawls into his lap.
“Pleeeeeeaaaaasseeee.” Derek knows he’s being a little bit of a brat, but if Chowder had reached out one of the other billion times Derek had brought it up, they wouldn’t be in this situation. It’s practically routine now.
“No.”
“Pretty please? I’ll be your best friend!” Derek bats his eyes coquettishly.
Chowder just snorts at him. “You’re already my best friend, dumbass. No one could go through the incident with the goose and Bitty’s pie on the roof and not be best friends for life.”
“Gasp! Christopher Franklin Chow, you promised you would never bring up that horrid night—”
“I made no such promise.”
“—but regardless, I shall magnanimously forgive you your transgression. As payment for my mental anguish at reliving that night, you could DM my future Boston Bruin husband and tell him to go on a date with me,” he says loftily.
“Nice try, but no.”
“Pretty please with sugar on top?”
“Nope.”
“Please please please please please please please—”
“Oh, fucking fine!”
Derek falls off the couch in shock, he hadn’t actually thought Chowder would say yes. “Really?!”
“Yes, I’ll do it. Sheesh, you’re pushy,” Chowder says, begrudgingly fond as Derek smacks kisses all over his cheeks.
“I’mma write you a poem based on this moment,” Derek proclaims.
Chowder squints at him, “Ground rules. You’re not allowed to take it out on me when he doesn’t—”
“If!”
“Fine, if he doesn’t answer, or if he says no, or if he turns out to be a jerk, or—”
Derek cuts him off by grabbing Chowder’s face in both his hands, still kneeling on the floor next to the couch. “I swear on the souls of Pablo Neruda and Kendrick Lamar, I will not take it out on you.”
“Alright, alright, get off me, go drink some water, go to the bathroom, something,” Chowder says, shoving playfully. “I’ll DM him while you’re gone.”
Derek pouts, “I don’t get a say in what you send him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Whyyyy?”
“Because you’ll take so long deciding what to say that we’ll be up for another five hours and I have to be on a plane to Minnesota in six hours.”
“You may have a point. Fine, I’ll go make sure the guest bed is ready.”
“Yeah, yeah. The sooner I do this, the sooner I never have to hear about Will Fucking Poindexter ever again.”
“Not if we get married!” Derek calls cheerily.
“Gross!” Chowder shouts after him.
“So I may have fucked up.”
The pounding in Derek’s head means it takes him a few beats to realize that Chowder was talking at all, and another couple to register what he said.
“What do you mean, C? I haven’t had coffee yet,” Derek whimpers into his arms where he’s slumped over the table.
Chowder draws in a breath, bracing himself. “I meant to DM Poindexter, but I tweeted publicly instead.”
Derek whips his head up, abruptly more sober than he was a second ago. “Well, that’s probably not too bad. You were just reaching out to say hi first, right?”
Chowder winces. “Well…”
“Right?”
“I was maybe a little more drunk and slightly annoyed when I was messaging him last night so—”
“Oh just tell me.”
“Here,” he says, passing over his phone. And there, right at the top of Chowder’s profile:
sharkboy55 @willpoindexter24 my friend has the hugest crush on you DM me
Derek lets his head hit the table again with a soft thud as he shoves the phone back over to Chowder. “I’m going to murder you.”
“At least I didn’t tag you as well?” Chowder tries.
“Small mercies.” A thought occurs. “Did you have to write hugest? The choice of adjective makes me itchy. You could have at least gone with ‘biggest’ to spare my poor writer brain.”
“I’m really sorry, if he does end up engaging at all—”
Ping!
“Holy shit,” Chowder breathes.
“What now,” Derek groans.
“He actually DM’d me. Just now.”
“What.” Derek’s brain is fully static.
Chowder clears his throat. “Send pics bro, she better be fiiiiiiiiine.”
They both frown at that.
“That’s it?” Derek asks.
Ping! Ping! Ping!
Ping!
“Apparently not,” he mutters, hearing the notifications come in.
“Here,” Chowder says, shoving the phone at Derek. “Monitor your own deal, give it back when he’s done responding, I’m gonna take a quick shower and pack.”
Ping! Ping!
Derek eyes the phone warily for a moment, bracing himself, before picking it up.
willpoindexter24
Send pics bro, they better be fiiiiiiiiine
willpoindexter24
Hi please ignore that Pips stole my phone
I was trying to figure out what to say
Since we’ve never really interacted before
willpoindexter24
Good to talk to you off the ice I guess?
willpoindexter24
Full disclosure I was planning on ignoring your tweet
But the guys were threatening fines if i didn’t at least see what was up
Derek’s still figuring out how to respond when the phone chimes again.
willpoindexter24
So, tell me about your friend I guess?
If they’re at all close to Boston I’d be willing to meet them at least
Not gonna promise to date them or anything but
I Should probably have more friends that aren’t pro hockey players
Shit
Not that I wouldn’t be friends with YOU Chow
You seem cool/decent/etc
Nightmare to play against but fun off the rink
ok ill just wallow in the awkwardness now
Derek can feel himself grinning wider with every message that comes through. Will Poindexter is flailing.
It’s extremely charming.
sharkboy55
Hi
Full disclosure in return:
this is Chowder’s friend
he gave me his phone so he could pack for his flight
willpoindexter24
*headdesk*
sorry i’m such a disaster
and that you had to read all that
sharkboy55
its chill
theres literally no way you could have predicted that i'd be the one answering
chowder will absolutely be friends with you btw
he’s good ppl
10/10 would recommend friendship
willpoindexter24
oh
thanks that’d be cool
willpoindexter24
so
do I still have to go through chow to get to know anything about YOU?
i assume you already know a lot about me and i don’t even know your name
no pressure
i've never been told to slide into someone's DMs for someone else before
idk the protocol or whatever
i guess i don’t even know if you wanted him to contact me
shit this was a bad idea feel free to ignore me
Derek bites his lip, thinking hard. Worst case, Poindexter doesn’t want anything to do with either him or Chowder. Medium case, they both get a new friend. Best case, Derek gets a date.
He types carefully for a bit, then locks the phone and abandons it on the table to go and get dressed. Maybe if he isn’t watching the phone he’ll obsess about Poindexter’s response less.
Yeah right.