Close to Home 2014 NHL Playoffs Special

>Celestia is silent.
>You lift your drink slowly and finish it.
>Tukka Rask watches his opponents celebrate victory.
>The crowd's fury eventually comes back into earshot.
>It's a swelling noise that sweeps over you as the shock wears off.
>The princess rises from her seat and takes a deep breath.
>”Son of a bitch!” she yells. “My fakkin' ass we just lawst that! Came all the fakkin' way out heah just ta lose ta fakkin' Mahntreal? Fahk!”
“It's just like last time,” you observe. “I hate this shit. Fakkin' Habs comin' heah, fakkin' Subban...”
>”I want a gawddamn drink, Anon. I need anothah fakkin' drink.”
“Let's get the fahk outta heah. Bah's ah still open. We kin drown ah sahrows.”
>Celestia hangs her head.
>The crowd starts to move. You take Celestia's hand and lead her through while you weave around the mass of people.
>You hear a chant coming up over the noise of people walking.
>It's a murmur at first, but soon the words become clear.
>”Fuck the Habs! Fuck the Habs!”
>You look back at the princess and smile devilishly when she perks up.
“Fahk...” you start.
>”Thuh Habs!” she finishes enthusiastically.
>The two of you walk out of TD Garden shouting with the crowd until you hit the streets and disperse.
>By the time you get near the bar, you've fully transitioned to anger from denial.
“Can't buhlieve we wen' out like that. That's fakkin bullshit. Shoulda had that series two games ago.”
>”I know! Fakkin' ridiculous. Fakkin' Habs. I just want anothah Cup. Is that so much ta ask?”
>A response comes unexpectedly from across the street.
>”With the Brooins? Bit much t'ask, eh?”
>Celestia stops cold. You turn your head slowly.
1/

>Across the street stand two men in Canadiens jerseys.
>”Buncha brawlers, those Brooins. No big surprise they lost t'us, guy.”
“What'd you just say?”
>”What, 're ya deaf now? Might get that checked oot.”
>”His accent makes me angry,” Celestia comments.
“Face is pissin' me awf.” You look back at the pair. “Hey, fahk you! Go back ta yuh fakkin' snowball fakkin' city!”
>”We will once we're done celebratin' yer loss, bucko,” the one replies. They start towards you.
>”Anon, we shouldn't.”
>”Yer lady friend tellin' ya to calm doon?” one of the Canadians asks mockingly.
>”You should listen to 'er. Bet she'll be cryin' enough tonite, eh?”
“Yuh talkin' like that just ta piss me awf? Didn' think you people actually did that.”
>”We sound better'n you, at least. Must be hell soundin' like you had some kinda stro-”
>He's cut off when Celestia's fist hits his jaw. You jump back a little in surprise, but manage to duck his friend's swing and get him in the stomach.
>”Hey there's a fight outside!” you hear someone yell from the bar.
>About five more people rush outside and jump into the fray.
>You take a fist to the cheek and stagger back into the princess.
>”Y'okay, hun?”
“Just fine.”
>You pull one of the Canadians' jerseys over their head and start kneeing him.
2/

>Your perception of time must still be messed up, because it seems like a second before the police show up.
>As soon as the lights appear, the mob breaks up. People sprint in every direction. Celestia grabs your arm and yanks you into an alley as the cops start yelling.
>”Hey! You! Stop!” one shouts after you. He gives chase.
>The alley is a dead end. You whip around to see the officer advancing.
>”On the ground, you two,” he says authoritatively.
>”Anon, do you trust me?” Celestia whispers in your ear. You nod.
“Course.”
>”Ma'am, what are you doing?” The officer reaches out to grab you. In a surge of panic, you whip an arm out and catch him in the nose. He falls back just as you feel yourself enveloped in energy.
>In less than a blink of an eye, you find yourself in Celestia's apartment, arm still extended.
>Celestia starts laughing.
>”You punched a cawp! Jesus!” she cackles.
“Reflex.”
>”Shuah.” she lays her hands on your shoulders and massages with her fingers.
“Good fight, though.”
>”You know I don't usually-”
“You decked that guy!”
>”He badmouthed ah town!”
“What happened ta nawt condonin' violence?”
>”I- it was the moment!”
>You turn around and wrap your arms tightly around her.
“I'm proud a yuh.” She blushes. “Now let's get drinkin! I wanna fuhget how much this sucks.”
>Celestia disappears into the kitchen and returns with a bottle of tequila.
>”Sounds good.”
3/

>An hour later.
>Celestia is sprawled out on the floor.
>You're imitating some kind of slug on the couch.
>”Why'd the B's hafta lose, Anon?” she mumbles.
“Cuz Gawd hates us, Tia,” you mumble back.
>You fumble for the now empty bottle, but end up flopping onto the floor, landing on Celestia's legs.
>She curls up and grabs you as well as she can.
>”I wawnned us ta celebrate...”
>You perk up.
“Why don' we celebrate summin' else?”
>Her eyes go wide when you kiss her.
“Been a while since we did it uh, like this.”
>”Drunk?”
“Nah, wit both of us as people.”
>”You suggestin' summin?”
>You let your hands wander freely.
>”I thought we wuh celebratin' summin?”
“We kin figyuh that out latah.”
>You roll on top of her and tense up when her hands start wandering as well.
>”I like that idea.”
End.