One Shots

Erik didn’t even have to knock or ring anymore, he just opened the door and walked in, collapsing on your couch. As your best friend, you didn’t expect anything less from him.

"Hey," you said, wiping your hands on the kitchen towel after sliding a batch of cookies into the oven. "Anything planned for tonight?"

"Not really," he mumbled, munching on a bag of chips by the coffee table. "Movie and ice cream, maybe?" That was your Friday night ritual as long as you could remember, usually during the summer or whenever Erik had time off from hockey.

"Sounds good. Don’t eat all those chips though, I’ve got cookies in the oven and pizza on speed dial."
He ignored you, pouring the last crumbs from the bag into his mouth. “Too late!”

You picked up a pillow from the other end of your couch by his feet, tossing it at his head. He bolted upright, grinning, cursing in Swedish at you. “Not nice!” he wailed.

"I told you not to eat the last of those chips," you reminded him. "Nice hair, by the way." His carefully groomed hair had been thrown askew when he sat up.

"Shit!" he laughed, quickly running a hand through it to smooth it down into his usual style again. "How bad does it look?"

"Doesn’t matter, we’re staying in tonight anyways!" You chucked another pillow at him.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?" you grinned cheekily, rummaging around for another pillow, tossing it at him once you found one.

He cursed in Swedish again. “Stop throwing pillows at me!” You could still hear laughter ringing in his voice.

"Or what?" you challenged, eyebrow raised as if to dare him.

"Or this!" Erik leapt off the couch at you, pinning you to the floor with his knees on either side of your hips, using his hands to tickle your stomach and sides. The only disadvantage to having him as your best friend for so long was that he knew all your weak and ticklish spots, but you could do nothing but laugh and squirm underneath him.

It was nearly impossible to escape his friendly torment, knowing his strength as a hockey player, but after a few minutes you managed to wriggle away. “Ha!” you yelled, standing up straight, arms raised in victory. As soon as he got back up, he grinned mischievously, and your confidence faltered. “Oh, shit!”

He chased you around the house, around the island where you could smell the baking cookies. He finally caught you back in the living room, and you tussled together on the carpet (at least, you tried).

Eventually you both tired, lying on the floor. You glanced over at him, panting. He grinned back, wiping his brow.

"Want that ice cream now?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," you nodded, sweating as you got up. "Nice hair, by the way."

"Damn it!"

Notes