Chapter Text
There aren’t many vampire hockey players in the NHL.
There are plenty in the European leagues, because there are plenty of vampires in Europe. French parliament is run by them, the last dredges of the German aristocracy are all vampires, San Marino is exclusive to vampires and so was Monaco up until last century. They’re overrun with them.
North America on the other hand, is wolf territory, the same way Russia and central-western Asia are. Sixty eight percent of Canada-born Canadians are werewolves, just 0.02 percent are vampires. The US is a little different, with a considerable fae population and plenty of old vampire families who made the journey over the Atlantic hundreds of years ago, but not by much. The wolves ran out most of the hopeful young vampires in the early years, as did a lot of the same humans that were killing the wolves, and as such there aren’t many vampires left in modern day America, and those that are are more than a little well off.
The vampires that do end up in the NHL are usually European, and by the time they make it to NCAA/AHL level no one really cares about species, but junior hockey in the US is a breeding ground for speciesism.
And so, Will Smith knows to keep his vampirism on the down low when he’s growing up. He doesn’t go all out to hide it like he knows some blood-sucking athletes in other sports have, doesn’t do suppressants and fraud and illegal blood trades, none of that. Every organisation he’s ever enrolled in knows what he is, Will just politely asks them to be quiet about it. He has his charmed necklace to keep his eyes and fangs from popping out whenever the adrenaline gets too much on the ice and he gets blood delivered to him in the middle of the night by exasperated staff members all through juniors. To most people, Will Smith is just another average human.
Honestly, Will barely even thinks about it himself. Hockey is a wolf’s sport, yes, but there’s plenty of humans and fae in the mix, and it’s not like it’s odd for him to order a half-raw steak when half the team is doing the same. The fact that he has no soul and none of his ‘friends’ know doesn’t even cross his mind, because it doesn’t really matter. Until it does.
-
It starts on a Monday morning when Will is startled awake at eleven by a projectile hitting his face.
He shoots up with a, “What the fuck?” to see his room and linemate Gabe Perrault already turning away.
They’d been out all night at some frat party or other after a 2-1 win in overtime, a sloppy game, but they’d lost three in a row before that so winning at all felt like an accomplishment worth celebrating. Will doesn’t have classes scheduled on a Monday and was prepared to sleep until four, but apparently Gabe has other plans.
“Up you get, pretty boy. Leno is waiting for us at the rink already.”
Will just fucking blinks at him, “Why are we going to the rink?”
Gabe looks at him like he’s stupid, which, sue him if he just woke up and has the worst headache ever, “Optional skate, man, keep up.”
Will groans and flops back on the bed, fucking werewolves and their freakish resistance to hangovers, “Keyword there is ‘optional’ Gabo.”
The werewolf rolls his eyes, “Fucking humans.” he grumbles, “I got you a cheeseburger, greasy foods are supposed to help with hangovers, yeah?”
Will glances at the bundle lying next to his head and just groans again, “When have you ever seen me eat a cheeseburger?” he rolls to get up, grabbing the offending burger and chucking it back at his roommate, “Gimme two seconds, I gotta shower. Eat that thing or throw it out, I don't want it.”
And then Gabe does something weird. His heart rate triples in speed and his face twists with hurt, like genuine, actual hurt. Like he’s upset that Will won’t eat a cheeseburger. But Will doesn’t think about it too hard in the moment, his head is pounding and he wants a fucking blood bag but he can’t with Gabe in the room, so he grumbles and moans and goes to take a fucking shower.
-
Two days later, Gabe insists on paying for Will's iced latte, he’s weirdly adamant about it, and when Will throws out a “Thanks, Gabo.” the werewolf’s cheeks go bright red.
And Will isn’t completely stupid, even with all the hits to the head he’s taken over the years, it would be embarrassing if he didn’t know werewolf courting behaviours considering how much time he spends around those oversized dogs, so it does give him pause.
Ultimately though, Will brushes it off. Wolves are weird, maybe it’s a pack thing? He’ll have to look it up later, but that’s probably it, no way is Gabe initiating courting with a vampire over iced lattes between classes.
-
But then Gabe shows up to practice with an extra coffee for Will, and half the locker room erupts in jeers and whistles and Will just stares at the offering with confusion. Gabe is looking at him so hopefully, with a rapid heart and wide, imploring eyes and Will knows he’s missing something, but he takes the iced latte with a confused, “Thanks?” and tries to go back to his conversation with Leno, but the other wolf is looking at him like he has three heads.
-
Later that night Will catches the two of them talking just outside his and Gabe’s dorm room.
”He’s a fucking human man, you know how weird they are about men dating men or whatever, he looked weirded out as hell today, lay off him.” Leno warns.
Will takes a second to realise they’re talking about him, he puts his phone down to listen, taking out his one earbud and pausing his music. Huh. Gabe is trying to court him. A vampire. Except, of course he doesn’t know that, if he did the two of them wouldn’t be having this conversation right outside his door in perfect hearing range.
”All i’ve done is buy him food, dude. How is that weird? It’s not like I'm stealing his clothes and jacking off on them.”
”That’s not the point, Gabo.”
”You just want me to lay off so you can court him yourself.”
Will’s eyebrows shoot up. Leno’s into him too? Two werewolves are standing outside a door arguing about who gets to court a person who has no soul, a person they can’t even mate and could never love them back. A laugh escapes him, and then he keeps laughing, loud and obnoxious because oh my god they’re so fucking stupid. The arguing cuts out and the two wolves enter the room, casual as ever.
“What are you giggling about?” Leno grunts out, not making eye contact. Will just laughs harder. These poor fucking wolves, he's going to have so much fun with them.