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2minsforslashingTitle: Blueberry Popsicles
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a2h
Rating: G? PG perhaps?
Pairing: None. Valtteri Filppula, Henrik Zetterberg. Mentions of possible Val/Tomas Holmstrom.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn’t be at work. Bored out of my mind. No implications made, no harm intended. This is only for fun.
Summary: Val finds something strange in his freezer and wonders if he can use it to his advantage.
Author’s Notes: Former5. She bet I couldn’t write a fic about blueberry popsicles. I bet I could. :P And, did you know that September is National Blueberry Popsicle month? I didn’t either.
Val frowned as he looked in the freezer. Someone – his roommate probably – had eaten all of his ice cream. This didn’t surprise him; his roommate was always eating his food. But what did surprise him was the new box lying peacefully on top of the frozen pizza. Popsicles. His frown deepened. Blueberry.
“He finally ordered them,” a voice said from behind him before an arm reached over his shoulder and pulled the box out of the freezer. “Thanks.”
Val turned and looked at Hank. “Nik owed you blueberry popsicles?” he asked in confusion.
Hank nodded and opened the box. “He said he could knock me over at practice,” he explained as he took out one of the popsicles. “I told him he had to catch me first.”
“And the winner had to buy popsicles?” Val asked, still slightly confused.
Hank shrugged as he peeled the paper back, revealing the bluish dessert. “You never made any silly bets with any of your teammates?” he asked and Val watched as Hank slowly put the frozen ice into his mouth and moan softly. “Nothing better,” he muttered.
“Not for ice cream,” Val whispered, tearing his gaze away.
“Huh,” was all Hank said before pressing the cold box against Val’s chest. “Try one. If you like it, I’m sure you can come up with a bet that Nik would lose and have to buy you your own box.”
Val watched the older man walk out of the kitchen before looking down at the box, still pressed against his chest. Maybe, he thought as he took a popsicle out of the box, he could get Nik to buy him a box. And use it to get the one Swedish thing he wanted most of all.
Homer.
~End~
Author:
a2hRating: G? PG perhaps?
Pairing: None. Valtteri Filppula, Henrik Zetterberg. Mentions of possible Val/Tomas Holmstrom.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn’t be at work. Bored out of my mind. No implications made, no harm intended. This is only for fun.
Summary: Val finds something strange in his freezer and wonders if he can use it to his advantage.
Author’s Notes: For
mer5. She bet I couldn’t write a fic about blueberry popsicles. I bet I could. :P And, did you know that September is National Blueberry Popsicle month? I didn’t either.Val frowned as he looked in the freezer. Someone – his roommate probably – had eaten all of his ice cream. This didn’t surprise him; his roommate was always eating his food. But what did surprise him was the new box lying peacefully on top of the frozen pizza. Popsicles. His frown deepened. Blueberry.
“He finally ordered them,” a voice said from behind him before an arm reached over his shoulder and pulled the box out of the freezer. “Thanks.”
Val turned and looked at Hank. “Nik owed you blueberry popsicles?” he asked in confusion.
Hank nodded and opened the box. “He said he could knock me over at practice,” he explained as he took out one of the popsicles. “I told him he had to catch me first.”
“And the winner had to buy popsicles?” Val asked, still slightly confused.
Hank shrugged as he peeled the paper back, revealing the bluish dessert. “You never made any silly bets with any of your teammates?” he asked and Val watched as Hank slowly put the frozen ice into his mouth and moan softly. “Nothing better,” he muttered.
“Not for ice cream,” Val whispered, tearing his gaze away.
“Huh,” was all Hank said before pressing the cold box against Val’s chest. “Try one. If you like it, I’m sure you can come up with a bet that Nik would lose and have to buy you your own box.”
Val watched the older man walk out of the kitchen before looking down at the box, still pressed against his chest. Maybe, he thought as he took a popsicle out of the box, he could get Nik to buy him a box. And use it to get the one Swedish thing he wanted most of all.
Homer.
~End~
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